Mass Effect: Exodus Book 1: Revelation
by princebejitasama
Summary: When an unmapped Mass Relay is found, suspicions arise about the whereabouts of the Reapers. The Alliance sends a team through the Relay, led by the recently incarcerated Commander Shepard. What they never expected to find, was a whole new Galaxy.
1. Prologue

[A/N - Mass Effect: Exodus, is a crossover fiction between the universes of Mass Effect and Star Wars, and replaces the events of Mass Effect 3. There are slight deviations on both universe's canon, and any deviations will be thoroughly explained in story.

If you're looking for a story about the Empire nuking the Reapers, this isn't the story for you. Yes, I'm aware that technicality wise, the Reapers would pose little threat to the Empire, but I wanted to re-capture that sense of despair and hopelessness that the Reapers brought to the table in the Mass Effect series. If you don't wish to read about the Reapers being a major threat to the Star Wars universe, then don't read. Any reviews stating "No, the Reapers would be easily wiped out by a Star Destroyer" will be removed.

Let me know your thoughts on the first chapter, should I keep going, should I stop, what doesn't work, what does? All reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated.]

**Book 1 - Revelation**

**Prologue**

Gunfire, explosions, the roar of star fighters zooming overhead.

The booming growl of the Reapers.

A cacophony of screams was the symphony for the end of life, a fittingly horrible music to accompany this dark hour.

The events of months gone by had led to this moment, on the Core World of Corellia, where the combined forces of the Milky Way Galaxy stood beside the Galactic Empire and it's recent allies were making their last stand. All of their plans were set into motion, countless days of meticulous scheming and strategizing, every possible turn of events weighed out, but no amount of planning would ever prepare them for this.

Corellia's skies were thick with laser fire, TIE Fighters roaring through the clouds of ash and smoke, weaving in and out of the Reapers' death rays. Ground AA cannons fired, recoiled, and fired again. The advanced weaponry of the Galactic Empire were faring much better than the Citadel Council's counterparts had when Saren had led Sovereign in an assault on the Serpent Nebula, but the sheer firepower of the Reapers was slowly grinding down the resistance.

In the vast vacuum of space above, the star-strewn blackness was a hive of activity. Reaper ships crashed into the Imperial Destroyer lines, their vast metallic tentacles ripping apart the colossal Venator, Imperial-II and Victory-class star cruisers. Alone, the Empire would not have lasted long, but they were soon joined by the Turian and Quarian fleets, who had driven hard into the flank of the genocide machines. Again, though, despite superior numbers, the advanced shielding and firepower of the Reapers was slowly turning the tide.

On the streets of the transport hub and economic boom-city of Kor Vella, Commander Shepard was alone. Fire and destruction surrounded him, but the raging flames that tore through the spires and towers of Kor Vella was nothing compared to the inferno burning in the heart of John Shepard. Dashing through the ruined streets, the former Spectre couldn't help but feel that the end wasn't too far away. The squad of Storm Troopers which he'd led into the city were either dead or scattered, his squad mates were fighting alongside their respective races (either on the ground or in the skies), and Shepard was damn near out of ammo.

A pair of husks came shrieking out of a nearby building, their arms drenched in blood, and Shepard raised his assault rifle, everything seemingly in slow motion. The thundering reports sounded dim and far off to his ears, as three bullets plunged into the chest, throat and forehead of the first Husk, then the knees of the other were shot out from under it. When it hit the ground, it felt to Shepard as though someone had turned the sound back on, as the thundering music of battle washed over him again.

The creature crawled towards him, growling and shrieking, even crippled trying to get to the Galactic Hero. Shepard walked calmly over to it, face expressionless as he withdrew his pistol, squinting his eyes against the spray of metal and blood which was no doubt about to follow. Two pulls of the trigger at point blank range, and the Husk was little more than a pile of organs and tubes.

With no clear mission, Shepard continued his run, calling over the comm as he gunned down Husk after Husk. "This is Commander Shepard! Is there anyone reading me? I'm pinned down in Kor Vella, and need extraction!" He found himself sprinting down an alleyway, receiving nothing but static in response to his calls. That's when a Marauder burst out of a nearby doorway. Shepard raised his pistol again.

Click. Out of ammo. The genetically mutilated Turian spun on the spot, levelling its rifle at Shepard with a growl.

'If I'm going out now, I'm going out fighting' Shepard thought with determination, kinetic shields flaring, face set and grim, Omni-Tool lighting up around his forearm, a blade spinning into the ready position. But before he could charge, a single sniper report boomed down the alley, the Marauder's head exploding, blood, oil and sparks issuing from it's neck. The creature shook, then fell backwards, Shepard spinning around to face his saviour.

"Just like old times, eh Shepard?"

The Commander looked sharply up to a rooftop around 20 feet above his position, eyes falling on the last person he'd expected to see. "Garrus?" The Turian smiled, cradling his Mantis rifle in the crook of his arm, and he gave a single, curt nod. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be with the Turians."

Vakarian crouched, placing a hand on the edge of the rooftop, and then allowed himself to drop off the edge, landing a few feet from the Commander, walking towards him with his usual cocky strut. "I started this war beside you. I tend to end it that way." The Turian had indeed come a long way since his humble beginnings as a C-Sec investigator, and it was largely thanks to the human standing in front of him. He withdrew his pistol from its metallic clip on his waist, holding it out butt-first to Shepard, mandibles twitching in a grin. "Besides, did you think I was gonna sit around on some ship while you were down here having all the fun?"

Despite the ongoing war, despite the constant explosions and the Reapers filling the skies, Commander Shepard, War-Hero, the first Human Spectre, accepted the pistol with a laugh. "You call fighting against hordes of genetically enhanced monsters on an unknown world in a far flung galaxy fun?"

"You _know_ I do." Vakarian popped the heat-sink on his rifle, the gun whirring as fresh ammo clicked into the chamber. "Now c'mon, before those Imperial sons of bitches bag all the good kills. I need to add a Brute to my body count."

"You're crazy." Words really couldn't express Shepard's gratitude to have Vakarian here, at the end of it all. The Turian had been a part of his crew from day one, but aside from that, he was the closest thing Shepard had to a best friend. But they were beyond words now, both men knew what was about to happen, and how important it was for the other to have them there. "You got a plan or what?"

"Charge in, guns blazing." Vakarian said quietly, a gleam in his eye. "Take down as many of the bastards as we can. Shoot 'til we run out of ammo, then use our guns as clubs. After that, I'll race you to that bar in the clouds. How's that sound?"

"Perfect."

Before they could charge off towards the heart of the city, where the Reaper troops had been landing for close to an hour now, a voice crackled over the comm. "-nder Shepard, do… -ead me? This is Commander Rex of the Five-oh-first… -your location, comi.. –get you."

Shepard pressed two fingers to his ear, tilting his head. "Rex? I can't hear you; there must be some sort of jammer nearby."

A few moments of static followed. "-locked. On.. –way. Hold… -tion, repeat, h… your position."

A loud shriek filled the air, as a colossal winged shadow swooped over them. "Harvester!" Vakarian shouted, raising his rifle and firing into the skies.

"Move it!" Shepard grabbed Garrus by the arm, pulling him out of harm's way as the monstrous creature swooped again, broken glass raining down on them as the Harvester's wings tore through one of the buildings lining the alley.

The two soldiers sprinted back down the alley, thrown into an open doorway from a shockwave released from the synthetic beast. They clambered to their feet, bolting across the room they were in, out through a back door and into what looked like the ruins of a marketplace. "Guess we're even now, then?" Vakarian roared over the enraged shrieks of the Harvester.

"I don't think so! You gotta save me more than just once for our score to be settled!" Shepard fired blindly over his shoulder as they tore across the open ground, weaving in and out of levelled shops and stalls. The Harvester swooped low, knocking them both to the ground, their weapons scattered, as the winged monstrosity zoomed into the air, flipping over, then starting to plummet towards them.

Suddenly, three Ion torpedoes ripped through the air, crashing into the airborne creature, exploding in a bright display of blue against its metallic skin. The beast was knocked off course, one wing torn off, and a pair of LAAT/I dropships soared above, peppering the Harvester with laser fire. Shepard and Vakarian scrambled behind a crumbled wall as a final torpedo was fired into the shrieking mass.

One of the transports landed around 20 feet from the pair, and the soldiers got to their feet, walking towards it. The hatch slid open, and Commander Rex stood with one hand holding his blaster rifle, the other clutching the support rail. The 501st Trooper looked worse for wear, his armor blackened and cracked, helmet missing, but a grim smile was on the veteran's face. "Shepard, Vakarian." He said with a nod. "Need a ride?"

"Your timing is impeccable, Rex." Garrus replied, grinning. "Where're we going? Night-clubs? 5-Star Resorts? A day spa?"

"None of the above, I'm afraid." Rex stepped back, making room for Shepard and Vakarian to climb aboard, which they did a moment later. The door slide closed, and Rex banged on the wall three times to signal they were ready to depart. The dropship's engines whirred into life, and it lifted off the ground, dust scattering in the wake of its lift-off. "We're needed at Centrepoint Station."

"Centrepoint?" Shepard quirked a brow. "Did something go wrong?"

"Crews aren't reporting in." Rex sighed, his knees cracking as he took a seat on the bench beside all that remained of the 501st. "Last contact we had from them was two hours ago, they said everything was running smoothly, and that they expected all would be ready to go within the hour. But…" he shrugged, gesturing out of the window, jerking a thumb towards a Reaper around a mile away which was swatting TIE fighters out of the sky like flies.

"I see your point. But… How are we getting there? I can't imagine we'll be able to sneak through the battlefield between here and Centrepoint in _this_ thing."

"I was hoping you could solve that little problem for us, Shepard." Rex glanced at him shrewdly. "Word is that the Normandy is the stealthiest and fastest ship in the Universe. Think she could punch a hole through the fighting?"

Of course she could. In Shepard's eyes at any rate, the Normandy was the best ship in this galaxy or the next. Not to mention that she had the best pilot the Alliance had to offer at the helm. Giving a sharp nod, Shepard pressed two fingers to his ear. "Joker, how you holding up?"

"Right now, I'm weaving in and out of enemy fire, trying to shake a bogey off my tail, and I just won my third round of solitaire." Joker replied almost immediately. "So, we're holding up just fine. You're missing cocktail hour though, Commander. Pina Coladas, Martinis, Margarit-"

"Not the time , Joker."

"Aye aye sir. What do you need?"

"Extraction." Shepard said, pacing around the room. "Get EDI to lock onto my position, the bring the Normandy in. We're in a transport ship, so we'll need to get in via the hangar."

"Got that, EDI?" Joker asked.

"Noted, Commander." Came EDI's reply.

"Alright then, step on it. Shepard out."

Not another word was said by the men in the shuttle, all of them deep in thought about what was to come. All of them, except Shepard.

His mind was on the past, the series of events leading up to this day. He already knew what he had to do now, so he took a moment to reflect on the last few months, and how it had all began. Thinking about it now, he realised what a far-fetched and crazy story it had been. Shepard would have scarcely believe it himself, had someone been telling it to him.

It had all started with a discovery.

[A/N: As before, let me know what you think so far. Chapter 1 is already underway, and will be completed within 3 days (if not less). So leave a review, let me know your thoughts.]


	2. Chapter 1: Discovery

**Chapter One: "Discovery."**

_Systems Alliance Patrol, SSV Bastille._

"_CYRUS" V.I. Logs_

_November 16, 2186CE – [The Phoenix Massing, Sea of Storms]_

_0920 Hours. [Flag] High levels of Element Zero detected on Long Range Scanners. Possible result of destroyed Geth Heretic Facility. Report forwarded. Suggest further inspection. _

_1050 Hours. [Flag] Inspection of former Geth Facility has yielded no explanation to the E. Zero phenomenon. Scanners picking up odd heat signatures and frequencies, several possibilities, none likely. Report forwarded, request to proceed outside of regular patrol routes delivered._

_1300 Hours. [Message {inbound] – Systems Alliance Outpost "Gamma-1102", Sigurd's Cradle.] Request for exploration approved. 3 hours outside of routine route granted. Godspeed._

_1425 Hours. [Flag] Anomaly discovered –Possible unmapped Mass Relay. Check of Alliance Systems indicates no reason for this Relay to be here. Only known Relay in The Phoenix Massing resides in the Tassrah system. Further inspection required, holding at safe distance. Probes launching. Report forwarded._

"Captain Mitchell, you might want to take a look at this." Alliance Captain Frank Mitchell glanced up from his terminal in the CIC of the SSV Bastille, cup of coffee raised to his lips. The man hadn't honestly expected to run into much out here, even after Cyrus had picked up some odd readings just outside of the system's borders. The slightly shocked tone to his yeoman's voice, therefore, had piqued his curiosity.

Placing the cup of coffee down on his desk, he rose with a slight grunt, moving almost casually across the room. "What is it, Summers?"

"I… It's a Relay." The young woman straightened her coat distractedly, eyes glued to the screen in front of her.

"A Relay?" Mitchell parroted, tilting his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. As far as he knew (and he knew quite a lot, after 22 years in the service), there _were_ no Relays outside the boundaries of any system, let alone one way out here on the very fringe of the Milky Way itself.

"Bringing up images on the main viewscreen now, sir." At the head of the room, a large screen displaying the Alliance insignia went blank, then displayed the Relay itself, hanging in the heavens. There was no doubting what it was; Colossal in size, two long, curved metal arms with a set of revolving rings in between them, containing a massive, blue-glowing element zero core. Captain Mitchell's mouth fell open. "Cyrus, run some scans, find out what we're dealing with."

"Already underway, Captain Mitchell. Probes have been launched." Came the monotone reply from the ship's V.I. "Shall I notify Alliance Headquarters and the Citadel Council?"

Captain Mitchell fell into thoughtful silence. This could potentially be big. An unmapped Relay, out in the middle of nowhere, with every chance that it wasn't on any known grid. His mind went into overdrive, trying to figure out what it was for, why it was here, where it led to. The Captain, who had been a part of the Alliance Fleet during Sovereign's assault on The Citadel, immediately thought of the Reapers. Was this perhaps some kind of back door to the Serpent Nebula? What if this was some kind of mobile transport hub, able to fling the Reapers to any part of the galaxy at any time? Several possibilities sprang to mind, some reasonable, some unlikely. But, he felt that if this information was sent to the Citadel, they'd dismiss the claims and set up a no-fly-zone, removing any chance of further investigation.

The Council still to this day denied the existence of the Reapers, and any evidence of them was swept under the rug, never to be spoken of again. The only people taking the Reaper threat seriously was the Systems Allaince, and that's where this kind of information was safest. "No, finish running your scans, send word to Sigurd's Cradle that we found nothing, then pass on whatever you find to Admiral Anderson."

"This is a serious breach of Alliance Protocols, Captain." The V.I. warned. "Section 72a, Paragraph 6 of the Artefact Discovery Protocol states that any Prothean Devices discovered must be filed in a dual report to the nearest Alliance Outpost (in this case, Sigurd's Cradle), _and_ the Citadel Council."

"True." Captain Mitchel picked up his coffee mug, taking a slightly disgusted sip of the lukewarm muck. "But the Protheans didn't build the Relays. Now tell me, what Protocol should I follow upon the discovery of Reaper Tech?"

A very slight pause followed, and Mitchell arched a brow. For once, the Council's unwavering ignorance of the Reapers could come in handy. "No Protocols outlined, Captain." Frank Mitchell nodded once, smiling broadly on the inside. "Will complete preliminary scans and send word to Admiral David Anderson."

"Thank you, Cyrus."

"My pleasure, sir."

_1545 Hours. [Message {outbound} – __Systems Alliance Outpost "Gamma-1102", Sigurd's Cradle.] __Detailed sweep of surrounding area has located a derelict Geth Dreadnought vessel. Leaking Core responsible for erratic readings. Nothing further to report. Returning to regular patrol route._

_1630 Hours. [Message {outbound} – Admiral David Anderson. Systems Alliance Headquarters, Washington DC, USA, Earth. /Level 4 encryption]_

_Admiral,_

_Anomaly discovered on routine patrol today just outside of the Sea of Storms in the Phoenix Massing system. An unmapped Mass Relay, which (after preliminary scans) sits on no known grid. Aside from this, scans have gleaned very little other than that this Relay is approximately 25% larger than the Charon Relay, suggesting that its power exceeds that of a regular transit. Suggest further study, although this may be beyond the limits of Alliance Technology._

_Reports and images are attached for your perusal. I leave you to your deliberations._

_Cpt F. Mitchell,_

_SSV Bastille._

One week later, Admiral David Anderson sat at his desk in the grand Systems Alliance building, the gentle ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. The man leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes, doing his best to take in the information in the report he'd just received from Councillor Donnel Udina. The report was full of linguistic and diplomatic mumbo-jumbo (as he liked to think of it, and annoyance at the pompous human Council Representative rose in him like a crescendo. Udina knew the Reapers were the true threat, he'd been on the Citadel when Saren had attacked, had read the reports from Shepard's trip into the Omega-4 Relay and his subsequent destruction of the Alpha Relay shortly afterwards. But what had Udina done upon reading the reports? Written it off as an unconnected series of events, and put a warrant out for Shepard's arrest.

Anderson himself had stepped in, bringing Shepard in and holding him under Alliance arrest. He would have preferred to let the former Spectre go about his business of saving the Galaxy, but having him incarcerated here in a cramped yet comfortable suite under house arrest was a much better office than throwing him behind bars on the Citadel. Udina had been furious with Anderson, but the Asari, Turian and Salarian Councillors had been satisfied with the terms, and had left Shepard's fate up to the Systems Alliance.

If it hadn't been for Udina's blatantly obvious dislike of Commander John Shepard, Anderson would probably have noticed the erratic and inconsistent behaviour of the Councillor. But, as Udina had always been something of a bungler and a pompous ass, Anderson put the man's outrage down to a personality flaw, and his insistence that the Reapers did not exist written off as ignorance and stupidity. Nevertheless, even with a member on the Citadel Council, Anderson's pleas that the Alliance should begin preparing for the inevitable Reaper invasion largely fell on deaf ears. They seemed neither ready nor willing to accept Shepard's account of the last few years, and the Admiral felt that when the Reapers did come knocking on their door, they'd be horrifically unprepared for the slaughter to follow.

Not that much could prepare them for thousands of gigantic sentient killing machines and their hordes of genetically mutated fighters, of course.

With a sigh, Anderson rose, kneading his knuckles into the base of his spine. 'Workin' out the kinks.' He thought to himself. The report, he decided, he'd give up as a bad job for now. His mind was all over the place, and he just couldn't absorb Udina's pointless jargon and democratic B.S. at the moment. The Admiral strode over to the window, glancing out at the streets below.

'How long until this hive of activity became a smouldering ruin?', he wondered, a frown creasing his forehead, gazing down at the bustling streets, the countless pedestrians and commuters, the air cars zooming past his window. The fact remained, however, that the Reapers had been too quiet. It had been nearly a year since Shepard had practically single-handedly thwarted the Collectors, yet even with Harbinger's dire warning of impending genocide, there hadn't been so much as a bleep on the radar to herald the arrival of the invasion force.

Was this merely the calm before the storm, or had Anderson gotten his calculations mixed up? Maybe the Reapers now saw the Milky Way Galaxy as too heavily fortified, and were perhaps strengthening their metaphorical muscle. Anderson didn't think this was the case. It had cost them the equivalent of several fleets just to bring down Sovereign, and in the end it had been a complete fluke which had brought down the massive mechanical monster. A data file provided by an ancient Prothean V.I. called Vigil had halted Sovereign's attempts to control the Citadel superstructure, and when the strings to Saren's reanimated corpse had been cut, the puppeteer Sovereign had been left wide open to a frontal attack from the SR1 Normandy's main cannon. With that in mind, why the hell were the Reapers dawdling? Surely they weren't stalling for time.

A low chime issued from the terminal on Anderson's desk. No, _three _low chimes. A high priority message. Anderson glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing in intrigue. Now, what was this all about?

He stepped back to his desk, opening the message, his mouth moving soundlessly as he read. With every word read, his eyes became wider. A new Relay? Well, this was perplexing. And more powerful than the bread and butter Relays placed around the Galaxy? Unable to drag his eyes away from the screen, he pulled his chair out and took a seat, brow furrowed in concentration at this much more intriguing reading material. It certainly captured his attention in a way that Udina's tedious report on Xeno-humanitarian relations within Citadel Space, to say the very least.

The reports and images did little more than reinforce the statements in the message, but still, Anderson damn near drunk in every word. Finally, something worth investigating. The report specs screamed 'Reapers'. Why? Anderson wasn't exactly sure, but he knew that every fibre of his being said the Reapers had something to do with this. And, in Anderson's experience, it paid to go with your gut. That area of space wasn't exactly the most visited (being so close to the Perseus Veil), but it wasn't unknown by any stretch of the imagination. Someone would have noticed this Relay before now, even though it lay outside the borders of the Sea of Storms. Someone, _anyone_, would have noticed it before now.

Anderson had his own thoughts about the reason for its existence, and had even cooked up a plausible use for it. The problem was that no one would believe him if he spoke his mind. Well, no one aside from Shepard. But Shepard's name was mud with the Alliance, the Council, the Spectres. Hell, half the Galaxy saw him as some mad, violent terrorist after the destruction of the Alpha Relay and the death of millions of Batarians. None, however knew the full story.

"… beyond the limits of Alliance technology…" Anderson muttered aloud, eyes skimming the report again. They might not be able to discern what this Relay was for, or how old it was by scanning and probing it, but one sure fire way of finding out was to send a ship through the damn thing. Of course, Anderson would never get clearance for such a thing, nor would he find any willing to fly blindly through an uncharted Relay when there was even a slight chance that the Reapers were waiting on the other side. He wasn't about to risk calling in help from the Salarians or the Quarians, who were the most tech-savvy races in the Galaxy. The only method open to him was to send a team through. But who could he send? Then it hit him.

Shepard. Shepard was... Well, Shepard. The man simply had this knack for doing the impossible, for stopping the unstoppable. Halting Saren and Sovereign, destroying the Collectors. So far, Shepard had proven a greater bane to the Reapers, the Vanguard of life's destruction, than the entire Prothean race had 50,000 years ago. He'd halted their march, pushed them back, even brought one of them down. The man was a miracle-worker, and if anyone could pull of something like this, it was Shepard.

Thumbing the intercom on his desk, Anderson addressed his secretary in the adjoining room. "Helen, can you come see me for a moment?"

"Right away, Admiral Anderson."

Anderson began ticking off a mental list, preparing for what was to come next. He'd probably have his ass thoroughly booted by Alliance Brass for this, but the man had gotten his backside kicked many times before. He was used to it.

The door slid open, his secretary stepping into the room, a datapad clutched to her chest. "Something you needed, Admiral Anderson?"

"Yes, there is." Anderson replied with a smile. "Have Commander Shepard's effects transferred down to the Normandy in lockup. And I need you to type something up for me.

Commander Shepard stood at the window of his dual-roomed apartment, glancing down at the courtyard below. A group of children ran about the gardens, scale-model Alliance ships in hand, ducking in and out of the shrubs and trees, and the battle-worn Commander felt a small smile creep onto his face.

His position wasn't the best. Locked up, branded a pro-humanity terrorist, his record tarnished from a temporary alliance with Cerberus (an alliance which led to the end of the Collectors), his ship impounded, his crew scattered, and an impending Reaper invasion on the horizon. Shepard felt like a tiger in a cage. All the man wanted was to save the Galaxy one last time, then retire somewhere tropical.

But the sight of the blissfully unaware and happily playing children made him smile. They had no idea of what was to come, and therefore went about their ways as always, the biggest worry in their minds being end-of-year exams at school, or when the next issue of their favourite comic was going to come out. Shepard wished he could simply sink into happy obliviousness, but the man had seen too much, knew too much for that to ever happen.

The door to his apartment cut through his thoughts, sliding open with a beep and a hiss, and Shepard turned, adjusting the collar of his jacket. The man in the doorway, dressed in formal Alliance Blues, face set and grim, was none other than Admiral David Anderson.

"Shepard…" The Admiral began, folding his arms and leaning slightly in the doorway. "You got a minute?"

[A/N: So, I got through Chapter 1 more quickly than I thought. This story just seems to want to write itself, and I'm loving putting it together. Hopefully you're all enjoying reading along. To the people reviewing, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts. To the questions some of you have asked, everything will become clear in chapters to come. Chapter 2 will be underway within the hour, and will _hopefully_ be uploaded within 24 hours. _Hopefully_.

Again, all reviews and feedback are extremely welcome!]


	3. Chapter 2: Resistance

**Chapter 3: Resistance**

Meanwhile, in a Galaxy far, far away…

Silence hung around the Galactic Senate like thick spider webs, even the smallest rustle or cough seemed amplified in the spacious, glass-ceilinged chamber. The Senators on their respective stages in rising tiers around the walls made no sound, the babbling chatter of a few minutes ago having disappeared.

At the very centre of the Senate, a single platform was slowly rising into the air, all eyes locked onto the man on the podium. Robed in black, dark helmet gleaming in the light of the sun filtering through the high windows, lights flashing on the chestpiece of his armor… Darth Vader, Emperor, ruler of the known Galaxy. As the stage rose, the silence seemed to intensify. None dared to speak whenever Vader was present; The Dark Lord of the Sith had more than once called public executions for simple matters.

In fact, ever since the Battle of Endor, Vader's iron grip on the Galaxy's throat had tightened. The Empire had increased tax levies, imposed strict planetary curfews and restricted trade to the Outer Rim. After nearly being defeated by the Rebellion two years ago, Vader was now strangling the life out of the Galaxy, and any possible insubordination or insurrection was quelled with highly public Capital Punishment. If only things had gone different on that fateful day…

_"Father! Help me!" Luke's pained screams reverberated in Vader's ears, mixing with the ear-splitting cackle of the Emperor. Darth Sidious, more commonly known as Emperor Palpatine, stood over the writhing form of Luke Skywalker, bolts of continuous lightning arcing from his fingertips. "FATHER!"_

_ Vader rose to his feet, sprinting across the space between them, and seized Palpatine by the throat. With a growling grunt, he hefted the Dark Lord above his head, electricity flooding his body, sparks and steam flying from his suit as vital core systems were overloaded with a surge of power. And using what he felt was the last of his energy, he tossed the Emperor over the railing, and Sidious's hideous shrieks echoed all the way down the exhaust shaft._

_ Vader slumped to the ground, his robotic breathing irregular and pained, racking gasps hitching in his chest. His whole form shook in pain, gasping for air, all of his nerves seemingly on fire. His eyes fell on his son, who was moving towards him. Then, without warning, the voice of his master filled his head. "KILL HIM! STRIKE THE BOY DOWN!"_

_ The Sith clutched the sides of his helmeted head, groaning in agony. "N-no… No!"_

_ "Father! Speak to me!" Luke knelt by his father's side, laying his hands on his shoulders. "Please, say something!"_

_ "Fool! You're too far gone now. The path of the Dark Side cannot be turned from! Strike the boy down! Fulfil your destiny!" The Emperor's voice boomed out inside Vader's mind, and the man who would never be known again as Anakin Skywalker felt a fresh surge of energy flood him. His hand shot out, letting out a repulse wave, throwing Luke across the observation deck, and the young Jedi slammed into the wall. Vader rose once again, his fallen lightsaber zooming into his open hand, and he ignited it with a flash of red. "Your father is long dead, Luke Skywalker. The Dark Side has devoured him, and I am all that remains." His cloak billowed out behind him as he strode towards the slowly rising form of his son, various pieces of rubble and debris scattering out of his path as he walked._

_ "No!" Luke staggered towards Vader, tears forming in his eyes. "It's not too late! You can turn back to the Light! Please, father! Pl-ugh!" Blood splattered up the wall behind Luke, his body jolting from the sudden force, Vader's lightsaber bursting through his back. Luke coughed, drawing in a final, racking breath, as Vader jerked the saber upwards, then booted him back into the wall._

_ Luke slid down the metallic surface, his blood smearing the chrome, slumped to the ground, and breathed no more._

_With that act, Anakin Skywalker passed the point of no return on the road to the Dark Side, and with Darth Sidious now dead, Vader was free to take the seat on the Imperial Throne. That was, after he'd dealt with the Rebellion._

_ His first act was to return to his colossal Flagship, the Executor. The shields on the Death Star II had been brought down, and it was only a matter of time before the plucky Rebels broke into the core and lit up the sky, destroying the space station from the inside out. His breathing was shallow and broken, his steps that of a drunken wanderer, staggering across the hangar, arm drenched in the blood of his son. The Sith Lord needed to move quickly; It wouldn't be long until his body gave out, and he needed to have the Rebels wiped out before he tended to his own cybernetics. _

_ Many different stories are told today of what truly happened. Some accounts tell of Vader going down with the Death Star and a Clone of the man himself taking his place. Others said the exploding Station took out the vast majority of both fleets, whilst some describe the battle as lasting for days and days. The truth of the story was far less grand._

_ Back on board the Executor, Vader had called in the cavalry before falling to the ground. Soon after, the 47__th__ and 103__rd__ Destroyer Fleets had loomed out of Hyperspace, crashing into the Rebel Fleet and decimating them in a horribly one-sided battle. The Rebellion had been crushed that day, as Admiral Ackbar and most of the high ranking Alliance members had been taken out in the opening minutes. Chaos had descended; Ships breaking ranks, some trying to flee against orders and being torn from the skies. In the end, Han Solo, Leia Organa and Lando Calrissian had escaped on board the Millennium Falcon, but their hopes of ever bringing down the Empire had been dashed that day._

And so two years had passed, the Empire growing in strength and numbers. The cloning facility on Kamino churned out more and more soldiers every day, and the workers at the Kuat Drive Yards worked ceaselessly, adding countless ships to the Imperial Fleet. It seemed that the Galaxy would be crushed forever beneath the colossal black wings of the Empire, as any who dared to speak out against Vader's regime were treated to an often slow and painful death.

As Vader rose upwards on his stage towards the centre of the Senate, he was completely unaware that one man in this room had been slowing building up a resistance to the Empire. In fact, this man had united the entire Outer Rim already, and had accumulated a fleet roughly comparable to that of the Rebellion. The numbers wasn't the impressive part; the fact that he'd done it right under Vader's nose without the Dark Lord getting so much as a whiff of trouble _was_. Not only had he secured himself a small army, he'd gained the favour of the Hutt Clans, the Mandalorian Clans, the Zabrak tribes, had even won the secret allegiance of the Corellians and the Duros. This feat was one that seemed impossible. Yet nothing was impossible when you happened to be arguably the most charismatic man to ever live.

The man who now stood proudly on the stage of the Corellian system, dressed in formal blue and gold robes, his long dark hair swept back over his shoulders, charcoal eyes following the Emperor's progress towards the Senate's seat of power, was none other than Darth Revan.

For the last two years, he'd moved around under the guise of Zade Kento, an alias which had been planted into his mind 4,000 years ago, in the years between his fall from grace and his solo-journey into the Unknown Regions. He had returned from True Sith Space mere months before the Battle of Endor, and had witnessed the fall of the Rebellion along with the acts of savagery and twisted cruelty dished out on a daily basis by the Empire. Sickened by these acts, Revan made a vow to himself, a vow to return the Galaxy to the way it had been when he'd left it behind. He saw the Empire as a plague and a blight, no different to Exar Kun, the Mandalorians, Darth Malak… Himself. Every time the Galaxy had been faced with destruction, it had risen up under the Republic's banner, united as one, and driven the enemy into the ground.

But now, the protective shield of the Republic had been replaced with the violent sword of the Empire, and the banner under which the Galaxy was united was now a death warrant. Vader craved control, and whilst deep down he may feel as though he was protecting the Galaxy, the fact of the matter was that he was suffocating it.

Vader's platform came to a halt, and the Dark Lord stepped up onto the podium, speaking in his deep, robotic voice. "Senators…" he began, his slow breathing punctuating each pause. "I'd like to begin with a demonstration on the foolishness of defiance." From the bottom of the chamber, a second platform began to rise. This stage held 3 Stormtroopers, and a single cuffed figure, a young woman, bound and gagged. Her face was bruised and bloody, fearful yet defiant, and her eyes fell on the Dark Lord of the Sith with intense loathing. "This woman was found harbouring Rebel fugitives, the same Rebels who attempted to plunge the Galaxy into chaos 2 years ago. The cowardly scum fled when Imperial forces found out where they were hiding, abandoning this woman to her death, after she'd fed and protected them." A small gangway was extended, bridging the gap between the two platforms, at the Troopers roughly pushed her across the path. "The Empire is dedicated to routing out and eradicating any trace of the Rebellion… For the greater good of the Galaxy."

Revan stood at the forefront of Corellia's stage, hands balled into fists, nails biting into his palm hard enough to cause droplets of blood to run down his knuckles. Vader had gone too far this time. Public executions had become the norm over the last two years, but to pull something like this, here in the Senate, where the Republic had been gathering for time out of mind… No, Revan wouldn't allow Vader to befoul these hallowed halls, not like this.

"ENOUGH!" he roared, his voice booming out across the Senate. A collective sharp intake of breath followed from the surrounding Senators, and Revan leaped up onto the lip of his stage. "This travesty ends today! Innocent blood will no longer be spilled by your hand!"

Vader turned, staring down at the man who dared defy him. There was something strange about this man. It was as though a raging fire burned behind his eyes. But Vader had no reason to fear him, did he? He was just another Senator. "Guards…" Vader began, eyes falling to the troopers hovering nearby on floating platforms. "… Bring the Senator to me. Two examples will be made today, it seemed." With a quick call of acknowledgement, the platforms began to descend towards Revan.

"The only example made today will be you, Skywalker." With a flash of violet, Revan's lightsaber was out and in hand, an audible gasp echoing about the chamber. The former Dark Lord leaped up, landing on the edge of the first platform he could reach, knocking the troopers from it with a repulse wave.

"… A Jedi?" Vader whispered quietly, watching as the man leaped from platform to platform, deflecting laser fire from the troopers' blaster rifles, slowly making his way towards Vader's position. "But how…" There was no time to worry about that now. Vader withdrew his own crimson saber with a flurry, using his own repulse wave to clear the platform he stood on.

The trio of troopers and the prisoner fell, and Revan halted his climb, levitating an unoccupied platform towards the woman, catching her safely before she could hit the ground. His eyes snapped onto the Emperor above. "You cannot win this fight, Vader." He called deflecting a blaster bolt back into the chest of a nearby trooper. "You know not what you are up against."

A sudden high pitch scream rent the air, a dark shadow spreading across the Senate. All eyes turned to the ceiling, and a booming sound filled the air; A sound like the very horns of Judgement Day. The vast, metallic creature descended lower and lower, spreading its vast tentacles, a single bright red light glowing within the mass of colossal limbs. An explosion ripped apart the Senate, glass and rubble falling like rain, crashing into the platforms, knocking them down. Revan leaped to avoid a falling metallic spire, but was clipped by a tumbling stage.

The man fell, crashing against the stages and platforms as he fell, slamming into the ground hard enough to crack a rib or two. Then, as he glanced up again, another fall stage flipped and landed on top of him, knocking him out cold.

[A/N: Didn't expect this to be done so quickly. First and foremost, _yes_ I'm aware that there's no canon way for Revan to be here. But, I began drafting this story before the recent TOR updates, and my story doesn't quite work without him there. A full account of his doings will be incorporated later. Fingers crossed I can have the next Chapter up by tomorrow. Thanks for reading!]


	4. Chapter 3: Suicide Mission

**Chapter Three: "Suicide Mission"**

"…Alright, Anderson, what's this all about?" Out in the courtyard, Shepard lowered himself onto a garden bench, eyes narrowing as he glanced up at the pacing form of David Anderson. After stating that, yes, he had a minute or two up his sleeve, Anderson had damn near dragged Shepard out into the sunny courtyard.

Anderson rubbed his chin in thought. Where to begin? 'There's a new Relay which isn't on a known grid, and I want to send you through it'? No, Shepard deserved the full story. "About a week ago, an Alliance Patrol discovered something out on the fringes of the Phoenix Massing cluster. An anomaly, if you will." The man stopped his pacing, fixing Shepard with a serious glance. "A Mass Relay."

"A Relay? Outside of a system?" Shepard quirked a brow, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you think it's maybe a similar phenomenon to the Mu Relay, being blown off the grid by a supernova or something like that?"

"No, it's not. The Patrol's VI did a system check, no Supernova activity in that vicinity for at least 600 years, and an alert beacon was skipped across the entire network, confirming that nothing was out of place. Save for the Mu and Alpha relays, of course."

The former Commander clasped his hands in front of him, waiting for Anderson to continue. When he didn't, he spread his palms in a questioning gesture, and tilted his head slightly. "And the verdict?"

"Inconclusive." He sighed, dropping onto a bench opposite Shepard. "I have my theories, but you'll think I'm crazy." Anderson let out a short, humourless chuckle, running his hand across his short, close-cropped hair. "Shit, even I thought I was crazy when the idea popped into my head. But I have my beliefs that this Relay, which according to the report was sizably bigger than our own Charon Relay, is some form of gateway out of the Milky Way. And I think it leads to wherever the Reapers are, or wherever the Reapers are planning to hit while they're ignoring us. So go on, tell me I'm crazy."

If it hadn't have been for the air-cars speeding by in the street outside, and the chatter of hundreds of voices inside the Alliance building and out, there would have been a stunned silence. "You're crazy." Shepard said after a pause. "… But that doesn't mean you're wrong. Is there any way to be sure?"

"Not with our tech." Anderson replied. "Hell, I don't even think the Salarians could work this one out just by scanning it and running tests. So I'm afraid that the only way to be sure is to send a ship through it."

Shepard couldn't help but laugh as he leaned back on the bench. "Let me guess… You want to send _me_ through? Even if I wanted a repeat of the Omega-4 Relay incident, my hands are tied. Unless you plan on attaching my apartment to a shuttle and firing it through the Relay, of course. House arrest means I'm stuck here, Anderson. You know that."

"Let's just say someone managed to clear you of all charges and gave you a ship… Would you do it?"

The Commander blinked slowly. "Hypothetically? If it means stopping the Reapers, then yeah. I'd do it. But the fact remains that I'm awaiting trial, my ships in lockdown, and I don't have a crew."

Anderson shot the Commander a small smile. "I might be able to help you out with the first two." Reaching into an inner pocket of his coat, the Admiral pulled out a datapad along with a small palm-sized package, and cleared his throat. "I, Admiral David Anderson, Systems Alliance Military, hereby clear John Shepard of all charges laid against him for the destruction of the Alpha Relay, in light of extenuating circumstances and his impeccable record in the defence of the Galaxy. His rank as Lieutenant-Commander in the Alliance Navy is reinstated, and his personal effects (including one ship, the SR2 Normandy) will be returned to his possession and any prior association with the terrorist group Cerberus shall be henceforth stricken from the record. Signed, Admiral David Keith Anderson, 9:42AM November 23rd 2186, Alliance HQ, Washington DC." Anderson finished reading, opened the small envelope and withdrew the Commander's dogtags, tossing them to him with a smile. "Consider yourself reinstated, Commander."

Shepard stared for a moment at the battered tags in his hand, disbelief etched into his features. After a moment or two, he glanced up at Anderson. "You can't do that." He muttered incredulously.

"I _shouldn't_." Anderson corrected, inclining his head. "According to Alliance Brass anyway. I'll probably get raked over the coals for doing this, quite possibly crucified by our good friend Donnel Udina. But I've had my ass kicked a million times over by now. It's nothing new." Ignoring Shepard's rather stunned expression, Anderson rose with a slight grunt and walked over to the wall overlooking the street. He clasped his hands behind his back, glancing over his shoulder. "So tell me now… Feel like taking a vacation through that Relay?"

"Hypothetically, yeah." Shepard replied with a grin, also rising. "I'm guessing this is strictly an off-the-record type mission?" The Commander couldn't help but feel that if Udina or the Council got wind of this, they'd be doing everything in their power to stop it. Shepard also had a feeling that the only people who knew the whole truth of this were the crew of the SSV Bastille, and the two men standing in the Alliance HQ courtyard. Anderson was playing his cards close to his chest, apparently, and Shepard couldn't help but agree with his tactic.

"Precisely." Anderson said with a curt nod. "The Council wouldn't support this at all. They're still denying the existence of the Reapers, so if we want their help, we'll need evidence. That's where you come in." The man turned, facing Shepard, a serious expression etched into his features. "All I need you to do is go through the Relay and find some form of serious evidence to support our claims. We need to find something tangible, something they can't ignore. Something that will force them to see reason, and to recognise the Reapers as a real threat."

"So it's a recon mission."

"Precisely. Get in, find out what the hell's going on, get out."

Shepard folded his arms, turning to look out over the sprawling DC area. Anderson was asking a lot of him, but Shepard realised that no one else could get this done. Barely anyone even acknowledged the Reapers as existing, and those that did lacked the skill-set of Commander Shepard. In his mind, this was the Collector Homeworld all over again. A suicide mission, into the unknown with no sure chance of survival. He'd done it once, who was to say he couldn't do it again? "Alright. But…" the newly reinstated Commander turned his gaze back towards Anderson. "… I'm going to need help."

[A/N: Short chapter I know. But I've been having some serious tech issues of late, and thought I'd pump out a shorter chapter while I could. Next chapter might be as far as a week or so away, depending on when I get my laptop/internet fixed, and my work schedule. Thanks to those who've subscribed, leave me a review and let me know your thoughts.]


	5. Chapter 4: The Fallen

**Chapter Four:** "The Fallen"

Through the deep fog clouding his vision, Revan could make out colossal shapes retreating into the skies. The knock to his head had left him partial unconscious, and now, he slowly opened his eyes, destruction surrounding him.

People were still screaming, the squeal of laser fire dim and distant, and explosions rending the air. But the battle, it seemed, was drawing to a close. Slowly and groggily, the man pulled himself out of the rubble, staggering as he rose to his feet. The falling platform had shaken him up, and he took a moment to clear his head.

Before he could react, he was seized by the front of his robes by a white blur and slammed up against the side of the downed stage, knocking the air out of him. His eyes fell on the face of a high ranking Clone Trooper, the man's white armour peppered with dents and scuffs, and the pauldron on his shoulder all but torn off. "What did you do, Jedi?" the trooper demanded, giving Revan a rough shake. "Speak quickly."

The sound of footsteps met Revan's ears, and he noticed close to 7 other troopers surrounding them in a semi-circle, weapons raised and levelled. "If you speak of who or whatever attacked the Senate…" Revan began, returning his eyes to the trooper holding him. "… Then that had nothing to do with me. Although I doubt you'll believe me."

"He's lying, Commander Rex!" one of the troopers snarled, taking a step forward. "These Jedi filth can't be trusted! I say we kill him here and now."

"Stand down, soldier." Rex replied in a calm but commanding tone. "We'll not be killing anyone… Yet." Alone of all the troopers in the 501st, Rex still had some form of deep-seeded respect for the Jedi, having worked so closely with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano during the Clone Wars. Behind his helmet, the Clone's eyes bored into Revan's, trying to detect a hint of a lie. When none was found, he released his grip, and dismissed the troopers with a hand signal. "What was your plan here today, Jedi?"

"My eventual plan was to overthrow the Empire, and rebuild the Galactic Republic." There was no reason to lie. Not now, anyway. In Revan's mind, Vader's reign was over. But that didn't mean all was well. "I no longer sense Lord Vader's presence… Was he killed in the attack?"

Rex stripped off his helmet, tossing it aside, and it fell with a clatter to the floor. "No. He was taken."

_ The attack was so sudden and so unforeseen that the Imperial troops were immediately plunged into anarchy and chaos. Mere moments after the Reaper blasted the Senate roof apart, one of the Star Destroyers orbiting the planet plunged towards the surface, its thrusters on fire and explosions peppering the surface. Air raid klaxons rang out through the sprawling capital, as not just one, but several of the colossal squid-like war machines descended from the skies. _

_ The Imperial forces became scattered, troopers sprinting away from the exploding Reaper Beams, officers screaming into their communications for order and retaliation. TIE Fighters sped out of hangars, the Destroyer fleets moving to intercept the mighty synthetic monsters. The Reapers began deploying ground troops, platoons of mutilated soldiers pouring through the Senate grounds and surrounding city._

_ Inside the Senate itself, Vader leaped to the ground, avoiding the exploding beams, as a team of Cannibals charged across the hall, gunning down Senators and Storm Troopers alike, whilst Marauders dictated their troops from platforms above. Vader led a party of Troopers into the fray, gradually cutting through a pack of vicious Husks. They were making for the emergency exit on the ground floor, and planned to progress towards the Imperial Base on the outskirts of the Senate grounds to rally the resistance. But they never made it that far._

_ The blast doors shuddered, then burst inwards, a pair of colossal Brutes striding into the room, scattering both Reaper and Imperial troops who had been skirmishing in the area. Whereas a moment ago, the Imperials had been making headway, now they were being torn apart. The Brutes crashed into the Imperial lines, slaying troops at an alarming rate, whilst the Cannibals and Husks continued to pour into the Senate._

_ To the Imperial officers overlooking the battlefield, it seemed that these creatures were focussing their attack on the Senate itself. And the powerful main cannons of the Destroyers did little more than bump the giant machines to and fro. No less than 5 of them had thus far brought down much of the fleet surrounding Coruscant, and the ground forces were laying waste to the Imperial military on the Surface. Most of the Empire's soldiers were scattered in various bases, outposts and barracks across the planet's surface. But the alarm had been raised, and as the Reaper forces continued to tear apart the Senate and Capital, the reinforcements were on the way. Hundreds of TIE Fighters, and many LAAT/i Dropships sped towards the battlefield._

_ Back at the Senate though, Darth Vader and the Senate Guard were fighting a losing battle. The Sith Lord cut down a Marauder, then used the Force to throw a stage platform at a pack of Husks. The Imperial Troops took down at least 5 for every 1 lost, but sheer numbers were overwhelming them. Slowly but surely, the new Emperor was being forced backwards, and his guard was dying around him. Soon, it would be only him._

_ A sudden, vicious roar brought their attention back to the Brutes. One of them had charged, knocking a small knot of troopers to the ground and crushed them beneath its stamping feet. With the reflexes that none but a Jedi could muster, Vader leaped across the gap between them, landing on the creatures back, and swung his lightsaber, decapitating the monster. The Brute staggered, and the Sith Lord vaulted off, landing in the middle of a pack of Husks, driving his fist into the ground and releasing a shockwave which sent genetically mangled humanoids flying in all directions._

_ The other Brute turned it's mutilated head towards Vader, swatting aside a pair of troopers who had been trying to bring it down, and lowered its head, readying a charge at the Sith. Vader turned, spinning his lightsaber in his hand, ready to face the creature, but he never had the chance. No less than 4 rockets sped through the air, exploding against the Brute, and several white armored troopers descended from the air, all wearing the original armor worn by the Clones. "We're with you, Lord Vader!" Commander Rex roared, landing beside Vader, his DC-17 blasters firing rapidly into incoming troops. "Help's on the way! We just need to hold out!"_

_ Vader acknowledged the 501__st__ Captain with a grunt of assent, deflecting enemy and hacking down any that came within range. Now accompanied by the 501__st__, the defence of the Senate building was fortified, and they gradually began to thin the numbers. The real problem now was the Reapers, who had thus far laid waste to the air support and stricken down many shuttles attempting to evacuate the wounded and the survivors. They were also preventing many of the reinforcements from landing, although 2 in 5 made it to the sundered building, and lent aid to those defending the Emperor._

_ Aside from the horrendously one sided battle in the skies, the defence was holding. Until of course, the Reapers sent the Harvesters forth. The winged atrocities tore apart the gunships and tie fighters who had managed to break the Reaper blockade around the Senate, and drove terror into the hearts of the Imperials, mere moments after hope had been restored. Finally, one of the creatures broke into the building proper, and swooping from high, seized Darth Vader in its talons, shrieking as it bore the Emperor away from the battlefield._

"After Lord Vader was taken, they stopped sending troops in." Rex said quietly, his voice empty of emotion, drawing to the close of his recount of the short lived but horribly destructive battle. "We managed to mop 'em up without too much difficulty when they stopped holding the reinforcements back, but…" The Clone sighed a weary sigh, running his fingers across his closely cropped hair. "… Nothing we did worked on the big 'uns. They were here for a few hours max, and they all but decimated the entire fleet, not to mention wiped out a good chunk of our forces stationed here."

Revan bowed his head in thoughtful silence. For this threat to fall on his head right when he was about to break Vader's chokehold on the Galaxy… Now, instead of several systems with hope in their hearts, Revan now stood with a broken and leaderless Empire, the brief glimpse of light gone. Rex, however, cut over his musings, turning to the Imperial Troops and surviving Senators who now filled the area.

"This is not the end." He said in a quiet, yet carrying and determined voice. "The Empire will strike back; we will lay waste to whoever dared to defy our might, whoever dared to threaten our homes. The Empire will not fall." A frightened chorus of mutterings broke out around them, and it seemed that Rex's words lacked the desired effect.

"The Empire is strong, verily." Revan said to the room at large, but keeping his eyes on the Clone. "But nothing you did against this threat had even the slightest effect. They tore through your defences like a wave destroying a castle of sand, and then vanished like smoke, without a trace. I have no doubts in my mind they were here to take your Emperor, but they'll be back, and in greater numbers. The Mandalorians, Exar Kun, The Seperatists, Darth Malak... All of these foes pale in comparison to the power that these creatures wield, and the Empire alone cannot fight them. Not while the people they supposedly protect live in fear of their defenders. The Galaxy must unite as one to overcome the invaders, not seek shelter beneath the Imperial banner."

"Senator Kento speaks the truth!" A Twi'lek Senator stepped forward, eyes wide and fearful. "These monsters tore apart one of the most highly guarded planets in Imperial Space, and they did so with next to no casualties. We need a leader, not a tyrant. And I say that Senator Kento should be the one to lead us out of the darkness, as he already planned to do!"

Rather than addressing the Senator, Rex turned his shrewd gaze on Revan. "Senator Kento?" he echoed, eyes narrowing, shaking his head. A humourless chuckle escaped his lips. "You may have fooled these people, but you haven't fooled me." Silence met these words. "I still haven't worked out how you came to be here, but these eyes don't lie, Revan."

The former Sith Lord breathed heavily through his nose, dropping his gaze to the ground, as the mutterings of the Senators around him rose up once more. This time however, there was shock, even outrage, at finding that their saviour-to-be was in fact the very same Darth Revan who had almost singlehandedly destroyed the Republic four thousand years ago. The Senator for Bespin stepped forward, pointing at Revan. "You have deceived us, 'Zade Kento'!" he yelled in accusation. "Our dark oppressor has been replaced by yet another Sith Lord! When will we be free from this tyranny?" A rumbling murmur of assent escaped the surrounding men and women, and Revan finally turned his gaze towards the crowds.

"This is not so." he said in a voice which was barely a whisper. "I am no more a Dark Lord than you are, Senator Haskas. Everything I have told you thus far is the truth, aside from my name." He walked a few steps to his right, leaping up onto a downed stage platform so that he could be seen and heard. As he looked out over the crowds, a memory rose unbidden to his mind.

Staring out over a sea of armored Sith troops, as the congregation below chanted in a horrible, bone-chilling monotone; "All hail Lord Revan! All hail Lord Revan!" The former Sith repressed a shudder and shook his head to clear the image. No, this time it was different.

"Senators, hear me, I beg of you." He began, holding his hands out, palms upward. "I stand before you as a man who wishes to save his home, his Galaxy. I do not wish to rule with an iron fist, in fact I do not wish to rule at all. My dream is of a Galaxy united, not under the banner of a tyrant, but within the walls of the Republic, as it once was."

His voice which was so quiet to begin with that the Senators and nearby troops needed to listen closely just to hear, began to increase in volume and emotion. "But for us to unite, we must stand defiant against this new threat. I know no more about this enemy than any of you, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let it destroy my home. Your home. Only together will we succeed. Alone, we are defenseless. This is war."

More of the survivors now joined the throng, gazing up at Revan as he delivered his speech. "These monsters have taken away your freedoms and liberties, destroyed your seats of power. Will you stand for this? I certainly will not."

There seemed to be a smouldering fire in the Jedi's eyes now, as his voice rolled out throughout the ruined halls. Even those on the fringes of the Senate grounds could hear him. "No matter the choices you make today, I will take the fight to these destroyers with whoever wish to save their Galaxy! Before the final battle is won, these devils will fear the name of Revan!"

With a flurry, he ignited his violet saber and lifted it into the air, staring down into the crowds. Even Senator Haskas gazed on in awe of the charismatic man. "As long as I draw breath, I will fight! I will do everything in my power to vanquish this foe and drive them from my home!" His voice now was a powerful, booming shout, his voice heavy with passion, rage, determination. His eyes were set and grim, and none who saw his face doubted his words.

"But..." His tirade came to an end, and he lowered his saber, the low hum almost painfully loud in the still silence. "I cannot do this on my own. Our only chance of victory will be through unification." He let his words hang on the air, and for a good minute, he simply gazed into the eyes of all gathered before him. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but drifted out across the halls as though he had screamed them.

"Who stands with me?"

Such was the effect of Revan's words, that none who heard them doubted him. Even Rex, who had been a part of the Imperial Army for almost 40 years and had been privy to hundreds of speeches over the years felt moved by the words of the former Dark Lord.

"Corellia stands with Revan!"

"Naboo will fight with you!"

"Iridonia!

"Revan has the allegiance of Duro!"

And so on. Soon, everyone in the hall had sworn to stand united in the face of this foe. All, except for Rex.

The grizzled Clone simply kept his eyes on Revan, throughout the entire speech and the following pledges of allegiance, his face unreadable. "I've never truly believed in the Force, or destiny…" he said quietly, slowly pacing towards Revan. "But it's clear to me that you were _meant_ to lead the Galaxy out of this darkness." Rex halted in front of the former Sith eyes set and determined. "The 501st Legion will stand by you, as will the entire Imperial Military. Even though I don't completely agree with the views of Sith or Jedi, I agree that we must unite against this enemy, or else surely perish." The Commander extended his hand, a barely noticeable smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. The two men shook hands, and for now, the Galaxy was united once more.


	6. Chapter 5: Rally the Troops

[A/N:

MetalKing1417 – Thanks for the question! Firstly, the 5 or so Reapers took the Senate, not the entire planet. And they did so with stealth and surprise. The Empire literally had no idea they were under attack until the Reapers had opened fire, and so their retaliation and defence was understandably lesser than it would have been had they been prepared. The reasoning behind the Empire's lack of forewarning is explained in Chapter 6. As to your point about Destroyer beams being able to break through a Reaper's shields, I disagree. But regardless, the story would be boring if the Reapers could be defeated so easily, am I right?

Qrs-jg – It's almost completely AU, if you want to be technical haha. Thanks for favouriting!

GameMan888 – Not nerfing, simply slowly beating down. Relates to my above statement, in that the story would be boring if the Empire simply owned the Reapers. ]

**Chapter Five:** "Rally the troops".

Out of all the things Shepard missed while being locked up under Alliance Arrest, this would have to be high up on the list; Standing on the bridge of the SR2 Normandy, gazing out of the forward viewing windows, with Jeff "Joker" Moreau behind the controls. After spending a large part of the last few years on this very ship, the Commander couldn't help but feel at home.

"Menae Ground, this is the SR2 Normandy." Said Joker in his best formal voice through the commlink. "Requesting landing clearance at Outpost Bravo-117."

"Normandy SR2, this is Menae Ground." Came the swift, courteous reply from the Turian officer on the ground. "Permission granted, proceed to Bravo-117 at your leisure."

"Copy that, Ground. Normandy out." Joker yawned and stretched, glancing over his shoulder at Shepard. "ETA 5 minutes, Commander. Cortez has the Kodiak ready to roll."

"Thanks, Joker." replied Shepard with a nod.

"Gotta say, I'm looking forward to having Garrus back. He's a great guy to have around. I love that whole "Serious Mr. Cranky Bone-to-Pick" attitude."

"Joker…" Shepard said in a slightly warning fashion, trying to hide a grin.

"Yeah yeah, I know. You say "Back to work, Moreau." Then I say, "Aye aye, Skip." Something like that?"

"Precisely." Shepard finally cracked a smirk, patting his pilot on the shoulder. "Now, back to work."

"Aye aye, Skip."

Shepard turned on his heel, making his way out of the cockpit and down into the CIC. The room, which was in fact the control hub of the entire Normandy, was abuzz with quiet activity. Ensigns and officers moved between terminals, reports were passed on, messages read. As always, the ship's CIC was a hub of activity.

But for now, Shepard walked straight through, down the steps, past the Galaxy Map, and into the lift, down to the Hangar of the Normandy. When Shepard stepped through the doors, Cortez tapped at a few buttons on his terminal, and one of the Kodiak Shuttles descended from the ceiling. "All ready to go, Commander." Cortez addressed Shepard with a salute, standing to attention.

"At ease, Cortez." Shepard nodded to his pilot, walking over to the weapon's rack and picking up a Vindicator rifle, strapping it to the metallic clip on the shoulder of his armor. Of course it was just a simple set down and pick up job, but Shepard knew it never hurt to be cautious. He turned, nodding to Cortez. "Let's do this."

On the ground, Garrus Vakarian leaned against the metallic wall of the demountable building beside the LZ, arms folded, glancing towards the skies. The Turian had just gotten word that Shepard was on approach, and Vakarian was eager to get moving. Just a few hours ago, he'd spoken to his former Commander via Vidcomm, and Shepard had asked for assistance yet again. Something Vakarian had no problem with providing.

What was the mission? Shepard had been sketchy on the details due to the possibility of the conversation being overheard, but he'd used the magic word (Reapers), and Garrus had immediately signed the dotted line.

The Kodiak shuttle drifted into view, and a small smile touched Vakarian's mouth. It had only been a few months since the two of them had parted ways, but the Turian was looking forward to seeing the Galactic Hero again. He pushed off the wall, scooped up his Mantis rifle and strapped it over his shoulder, making his way towards the open-aired dock.

As he stepped through the security checkpoint, he looked on while a few Turian officers waved the shuttle down. The hatch lifted open, and Commander Shepard hopped out onto the ground, striding across the bay.

Leaning against the wall near the exit, Vakarian lazily raised a hand to signal his position to Shepard, a small grin lighting his face. Shepard mirrored the smile, changing course and making a b-line for the battle-scarred Turian.

"Thought you'd never get here." Vakarian said slyly, extending a hand to the commander.

"Slow and steady, Garrus." Shepard replied, grasping hands with the Turian. "You got somewhere we can talk privately for a few minutes?"

Garrus raised an eyebrow, glancing towards the Kodiak, then towards the star-strewn skies. "What, the Normandy isn't private enough?"

Shepard shook his head. "This is a chat we need to have _before_ we leave. Got a few things I'd like you to do before you hand your bags to the Porter."

Garrus did a quick scan of the area, looking for a likely spot. His eyes fell on a disused demountable some 20 feet from their position, and he jerked his head towards it. "Sure. C'mon."

Once inside, Shepard went about explaining the full situation as quickly as he possibly could. He told Garrus all about the new Relay, and to Shepard's surprise, Garrus seemed to have heard about it already ("I might not be as spry as I used to be, but my eyes and ears are just as sharp as ever." He'd said cryptically with a wink. "Keep going.") Shepard had pressed on, telling him about Anderson's beliefs and the plan to send the Normandy and her crew over to the other side.

"It's a scout mission, a recon if you will." Shepard finished, dropping onto the empty chair opposite his comrade. "We're going to gather evidence on Reaper activity, find something tangible, then bring it home to the Council, the Alliance, everybody. Once we secure their support, we're going back to wage war. Which leads me to my question." Shepard paused, resting his elbows on the table, fixing Vakarian with a scrutinizing glance. "Obviously, I need you with me on this one. But if there's any chance of us rallying the Turian Military, perhaps even pre-swaying the Hierarchy in our favour, I'd take it. Is there anyone here you can trust enough to leave that job to?"

Vakarian mulled the question over in his mind, stroking his chin. "I'm not sure if you're aware…" he began. "… But the Turian Military has taken something of a more serious stance on the Reaper threat than even the Systems Alliance. Not as seriously as it should, mind you, but seriously enough to appoint a Reaper Task Force to monitor Reaper movements and pick up on the early warning signs. As the only man in the military with… 'field experience'," he sketched invisible quotation marks in the air, "…against the Reapers, they put yours truly in command of this crew. So, in short, yes I could find somebody. And I think I have the perfect person in mind." Vakarian rose from his seat, instructing Shepard to do the same. "I'm going to have a word with General Victus. I'll rendezvous with you in 25 minutes."

…

Alliance Headquarters  
6:24am, Washington, USA.

The electronic doors to the colossal Alliance building slid open with a light whoosh, and Anderson's highly polished shoes clocked against the marble floor of the lobby. The Admiral's fingers tightly clutched the handle of his briefcase in one hand, a styrofoam cup of murky black coffee in the other. He wore the troubled frown which had been seemingly etched into his features ever since the fall of the Collectors, and he glanced down at his watch.

"You're in early, Admiral." The Alliance guard by the lifts called out as Anderson approached the check-in point, hastily dropping the deck of playing cards into his draw. "Wasn't expecting you until at least 8."

"Couldn't sleep." Anderson replied with a shrug, dropping his briefcase onto the conveyor belt which led through the X-ray scanners. "Thought I may as well put in some overtime and get a few reports done that I've been neglecting." He stepped through the blue grid-like scanner, swiping his tags against a terminal as a cool female voice issued from a nearby speaker. 'Good Morning, Admiral David Anderson. We hope you have a prosperous day'. He collected his briefcase, gazed down at his coffee, wrinkled his nose in disgust and tossed it into a bin.

"Fair enough." replied the guard with a sharp nod. "Just a heads up, Councillor Udina is dropping in today."

"Don't remind me..." Anderson shook his head and straightened the medallions on his lapel. "Good day to you."

"You too, sir."

Anderson stepped out of the lift a few moments later, striding down the carpeted hallway towards his office. The floor was completely empty, save for a few techies who were making adjustments to the Extranet, and Anderson silently thanked God that he didn't have to put up with anyone right now. His sleeping patterns had been off ever since Shepard left a few days ago on yet another suicide mission on the Normandy. Had he sent Shepard to his death? Maybe. He wasn't 100% certain that Alliance brass would send in support even if Shepard managed to dig up evidence of Reaper activity. No doubt they'd adopt a "Not our galaxy, not our problem" approach, but they didn't see the bigger picture. They'd destroy this new Galaxy, take what they need, and move on. The Milky Way would fall soon after.

A faint beep issued from the door as Anderson swiped his security cards and stepped into his office, dropping his briefcase onto his stainless steel desk and striding over to the window. Things were looking grim. Sure, Shepard was on the case. But the Commander was only one man, albeit a man who had destroyed two galactic threats and had even returned from the dead. If Anderson couldn't get the support he needed from the Alliance, Shepard was as good as permanently dead.

And even if the Alliance fleets moved in, would it be enough? The simplest answer was indeed a no. Perhaps if the Council sent their fleets in, along with the Quarians, Turians, the Krogan, the Salarians, the Asari, hell, even the Volus, they might stand a chance. But hell would freeze over before all of those races worked together. It was something of a hopeless cause, whichever way you looked at it.

The Admiral strode over to his desk and thumbed the intercom, intent on getting his secretary to bring him a fresh coffee. Then he realised it was 6:30 in the morning, and Helen wouldn't be in until 9 at the earliest. Heaving a sigh, regretting his decision to come in early already, Anderson made to leave his office and head to the kitchenette down the hall, when the vidcom on his desk lit up with an incoming call. Frowning slightly and rubbing his chin, Anderson dropped into his chair. Judging by the encryption on the uplink, he made the guess that this call was coming from the Quarians.

He tapped at his terminal, straightening his collar and connected. "Anderson." he said gruffly, trying to discern the figure hidden amongst the static.

"Greetings, Admiral Anderson." Came an accented, female (and extremely familiar) voice from the other side. "This is Tal-.." The Quarian broke off, seemed to compose herself, and spoke again. "This is Admiral Tali Zorah vas Normandy of the Migrant Fleet." Being a very newly instated Admiral, the young Quarian was still familiarizing herself with the do's and don'ts of the role, including the proper introductions. "I hope you can forgive this most unorthodox communication, Admiral. I needed to bypass several Alliance systems to speak directly with you."

Ah, so Tali had used her ingenious skills to hack into the most complex security systems the Alliance had to offer? Anderson's mouth twitched in a light grin. "I believe I can forgive this severe breach of protocol just this once." He replied genially. "And let me assure you, this is quite a severe breach." His words were warning and stern, yet his tone was more pleasantly surprised that such a young woman had managed to crack codes written by engineers and tech-heads twice (even thrice) her age. "I'm guessing this isn't a courtesy call to see if my back's still playing up?"

"I'm afraid not, Admiral. What I have to tell you is for your ears only." Tali's mind briefly wandered back to her conversation mere hours ago with the rest of the Admiralty Board on the Rayya, and the shocking discoveries their science crews had uncovered. "It's about-"

"The Reapers, perhaps?" Anderson cut across her, leaning forwards expectantly. Had the Quarians discovered something they'd missed? In tech regards, the Quarians were indeed years ahead of the Alliance, and in some fields, they even pipped the Salarians at the pole, who were widely regarded as the most tech and science savvy race in the Galaxy.

Tali nodded slowly. "During a recent investigation of the derelict Haratar Station in the Phoenix Massing cluster, we intercepted a highly encrypted message which seemed to be bouncing around between the satellites in the vicinity. At first, we thought it may have been relating to the Geth, so naturally, we decided to take a look at what it said."

"You're aware of the uncharted Relay, then?"

She nodded again. "Obviously, we thought there must have been some mistake, and I took a crew out to investigate. We were just as surprised by the finding as the Alliance were, so we set up a research team. Our findings were… Ominous."

The second monitor on Anderson's desk lit up and began displaying information on the Relay, and Anderson gave a mild start, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Tali…" he said cautiously. "How are you…"

"Never mind that now." She replied evasively. "Just take a look at what we found. We picked up odd heat signatures around the Relay, and we ran a system check to find what kind of ship would possibly leave such an emissions trail."

Now on the screen, revolving slowly, was a digital model of the Reaper who had attacked the Citadel with a fleet of Geth Warships. "Sovereign." Anderson said in a half whisper.

"Precisely." Tali acquiesced with a nod. "This can only mean one thing; That the Reapers have indeed used this Relay in the not too distant past."

And there it was. Tangible proof that the Reapers were indeed on the move. Anderson felt a moment of victorious pride in the news; He wasn't crazy. He'd been bang on the money. Yet while many would believe these reports would be evidence enough to support the claim that the Reapers were using this as Relay as a gateway to another Galaxy…

"… No doubt the Council would find a way to dismiss the proofs…" Anderson muttered quietly.

"Come again, Admiral?"

David Anderson let out a low, almost groaning sigh. Time to let someone else into the circle. "Just a few days ago, I sent Commander Shepard out on the Normandy to find evidence that the Reapers weren't simply lingering in dark space. Right now, he's probably recruiting members of the old crew, but this new revelation… I think the last few grains of sand have hit the bottom of the hourglass. Time's up." Now that they knew for a fact that the Reapers were on the other side, the urgency factor was kicking in. If the Reapers were there already, had been there for some time, they needed to move fast. And while Shepard had been right in his belief that help was needed, time was of the essence. They simply couldn't afford to pick up the old crew. They needed to move in, and fast.

Right now, Anderson would have killed for a cup of coffee. No, scratch that. Heavily laced Irish Coffee. He couldn't do this alone. Neither could Shepard. They'd need help, the problem was that no one would commit to such a cause without hard evidence. "Admiral, I'm going to ask you a question. No, make a request. I understand completely of you refuse."

The man stood, clasping his hands behind his back and brow furrowed in thought. "Shepard will be taking the Normandy through that Relay as soon as he can. But we need help. Humanity cannot face this threat alone." Anderson began pacing back and forth, the emotion in his voice lifting. "Shepard will need someone with your abilities as investigates this new galaxy. He needs you on board for this one, Tali."

"To be honest, I knew you would ask this, as soon as you mentioned Shepard's mission. And until recently I thought it is what I would like to do. Join Shepard once again, fight the Reapers. But..." She paused and glanced to the side, thinking about what decision would be the right one. "... My people need me. Not even an hour ago I had to stop one of our Admirals from starting a war with the Geth. I am not sure if I can leave them right now, there might not be a Migrant Fleet anymore _if_ I return from behind the new Mass Relay." Another pause, longer this time. As if steeling herself, she took a breath. "On the other hand, nobody knows what Shepard will find once he enters this new galaxy. Everything could be completely different, not to mention the Reapers will be there. So… Yes, I'll go with Shepard."

Anderson furrowed his brow as Tali spoke. He couldn't blame her hesitancy, considering the news she'd just given him about another admiral and his warmongering. Nonetheless, a brief, relieved smile touched a corner of his mouth when she agreed to lend aid. Tali was recognised as the best Engineer in the Migrant Fleet by many, even those who didn't dwell within the Flotilla. Shepard needed her now more than ever.

"You have my eternal gratitude, Admiral." He replied thankfully, sinking back into his chair once more. "I'll speak to Shepard ASAP, and have him make directly for the Sea of Storms when he can. But, one more thing." A thought occurred to Anderson, and going with the impulse, he clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forwards. "If we do find Reapers on the other side, there's no guarantee of us succeeding. The Alliance fleets all mustered together would barely put a scratch in their armour. This is a difficult question to ask, and a harder one to answer, but we're going to need the Quarian fleets to win this war."

"I would like to assure you the Migrant Fleets' assistance, Admiral." She replied with a light sigh. "But that is a decision I can't make alone. I have to consult the Admiralty Board. And such a meeting requires time to prepare. Quarian traditions can be bothersome at times. What I _can_ do, however, is appoint a substitute Admiral to take my place while I am gone, and they can speak for me, doing all they can in my stead to prepare the Fleet."

"That is far more than I would have asked." Out of the corner of his eye, Anderson spotted his secretary standing a few feet outside his door, a pot of coffee in one hand and a mug in the other. He gave her a very small smile and a brief nod; Her timing was impeccable. "Thank you again, Admiral. I'll let you get back to your duties." He said, rising and shooting Tali a salute. "We'll rendezvous in 2 days time in the Sea of Storms. Anderson out."

He ended the commlink and gestured his secretary into the room, accepting the cup of coffee with many thank yous. "Perfect timing as usual." he muttered with a shake of the head.

"Rough morning, sir?"

"Wouldn't say rough. More... Taxing." Anderson replied as he dropped his coat onto the desk. "I'll need my shuttle prepared as soon as you can. See if you can dig up my field gear too."

She raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere, Admiral?"

"... You could say that."

Without another word, Anderson strode from the room, heading towards the vidcom chamber. He needed to speak to Shepard immediately.

[A/N: Again, the greatest of apologies for the delay. A combination of work and lazy muse are the culprits this time, but I'm now faced with 3 work-free days and next to nothing on my schedule. Hopefully Chapter 6 will be up in that time frame. Fingers crossed.

A big thanks to my close friend Caro, who helped me put this one together.

Thanks again for reading thus far. Hope you're enjoying it! Leave a review and share your thoughts.]


	7. Chapter 6: Calm Before the Storm

[A/N: Despite the negative reviews regarding the argument of Reapers v.s. Empire (and after a few encouraging words from my good friend TRON-JA), I've decided to pick this story back up again. It has by far the most subscribers and favourite listings, and I found some notes relating to the plot on my old laptop the other day, and I simply enjoyed writing this too much to put it in the scrap bin.]

**Chapter Six:** "Calm Before the Storm."

The rebuilding process had not been as quick as Revan would have liked. Once the dust had settled after the attack, Revan immediately called for a status report, and crews moved out across the decimated capital, assessing the damage, pulling survivors from the rubble, tending to the dead and the wounded. Little remained of the Core World's orbital defences, with a mere 10 ships left of the 20 which had partaken in the skirmish with the genocidal machines.

Revan's main concern at the present was evacuating the survivors. Coruscant was the titular head of the Galactic Hierarchy, and with their successes against the Empire in the opening foray, there was every chance that the invaders would return to finish the job. Grimly, Revan realised that had he been on the other side of the fence, it was what he would have done himself.

The biggest problem for the Empire was that during the battle, all long-range communication channels had been completely severed. This was why the Empire had had no forewarning of the invasion force. Imperial channels were scrambled, as were any other lines of distance comms. As it now stood, every planet in the Galaxy was a boat floating on a wide, foggy ocean. Completely cut off from one another. Revan himself had rectified the situation, digging up an old beacon system from the days of the Mandalorian Wars, and had pinged a message between connecting satellites, broadcasting the word across all open channels to the very edges of known space.

_"Vader has fallen. An unidentified foe lays siege to the Galaxy. Dark times lay ahead. All operational Imperial War Vessels are to marshal at Coruscant. May the Force be with us all."_

In this way, Revan learned that more than just Coruscant had been attacked. The worlds of Brentaal IV, Onderon, Duro and Ithor had been heavily hit by the destroyers, and their respective fleets had been reduced to next to nothing. It was then that Revan realised that four planets had been places of import on Vader's itinerary, and the former Dark Lord realised just how intelligent these mechanical monsters were.

Now, a few short weeks after the Emperor was taken, Revan had accomplished much. While he was still no closer to fixing the problem with the Communication channels, refugees from Coruscant and the other beleaguered planets had been set up in camps on Naboo and Telos, the Imperial fleets were bolstered and organised, and troops were pulled from conflicts with the crumbling Rebellion on the fringes of the Colonies Rim.

One thing, however, still seemed to be missing. A crucial piece to the Republic puzzle; The Jedi Order. Order 66 had all but wiped out the Jedi, and the only known Force wielders in the Galaxy were hidden from Imperial eyes. Luckily for Revan, in the bowels of the Imperial Prison on Coruscant, a prisoner was held captive.

A prisoner who could put Revan on the right track to finding the Jedi.

Sitting in the Emperor's suite, Revan studied detailed holographic readouts of the Imperial army's movements. Within the last hour alone, fleets from Yavin, Bespin, Kashyyk, Tatooine and Manaan had all arrived to answer the summons. Finding lodgings and airspace for such a multitude of troops and ships would be a nightmare in itself. Revan silently thanked the Force that the responsibility _wasn't _his.

The door to the room slid open with a hiss, and a black uniformed officer stepped lightly into the room, sweeping the Jedi a bow. "Lord Revan, I've just received word from the Prison Guard." he said sharply. "The prisoner is on the way here. She'll be arriving at any moment."

"Excellent." Revan rose from his seat, straightening his dark robe. "Have her brought directly to me. See that her needs are tended to. And, Officer Krall? You'll no longer address me as Lord Revan. If a title must be used, let 'Master' suffice."

Krall swept another obliging bow. "Of course, Master Revan."

The former Sith wasn't left alone for long. In fact, he barely had time to scrape together a crystalline jug of water and two clean glasses before the intercom on his desk buzzed again. Standing with his back to the room, gazing out across the decimated capital, he spoke over his shoulder. "Enter." The doors whooshed open once again. This time, two Stormtroopers led a young woman into the suite. Her wrists were bound behind her back in a set of cuffs, her blonde hair dirty and unkempt, her grey uniform stained and torn. The troopers led her to the table in the centre of the room and sat her in an iron chair, before promptly turning on their heels and vacating the room.

"Had I known about your imprisonment earlier, I would have released you by now, Captain Eclipse." Revan waved his hand, and Juno Eclipse's powercuffs deactivated, falling to the floor with a clatter. Waving his hand again, the water jug rose into the air, filling each glass with an equal measure. Even after weeks of lock down in her cell, Juno eyed the glass suspiciously. It was evident that she wasn't prepared to trust Revan on a mediocre apology and a glass of water. Revan, however, expected this, and, turning to face the young pilot, pressed on. "No doubt you know of the attack."

It wasn't a question, and Juno saw no reason to lie. "Yes."

"What, I believe, you are unaware of, are the details." The Jedi moved to the table and sat himself opposite the blonde. "An unknown enemy from beyond the borders of known space laid siege to the Galaxy. They took Emperor Vader captive and fled after destroying the Senate."

Juno took this information in. She'd been part of numerous raids on Imperial lines, but even at the height of the Rebellion's strength, they never even dreamed of assaulting Coruscant. Whoever this 'unknown enemy' was, they were incredibly powerful. But, there was one point she wasn't quite comprehending. "... And what does this have to do with me?" she asked, coldly. "You don't seem stupid, Lord Revan. You surely don't think I could have had a part in such an attack while wasting away in the vaults under Coruscant?"

Suprisingly, at this, Revan smiled. It wasn't a cold, twisted smile, like the ones worn by so many Sith Lords in the past. It was genial, kindly, mildly amused. "No, Captain. I do not believe you or any of your comrades had a hand in this. Please, drink. The water isn't poisoned." To demonstrate his point, he lifted one of the glasses to his lips and took a mouthful. Cautiously, Juno mirrored his movement, and found to her great pleasure that the clear liquid was cold and refreshing; Far better than the swill she'd been forced to drink in prison. Revan gave a satisfied nod and continued. "My reason for calling you here today, aside from releasing you from custody, is to ask for your aid."

For the first time since arriving, Juno's glare softened to a glance of curious surprise. "What aid can I offer you?" she asked, quirking a brow. "I hardly have an army at my disposal. The one ship I own is under Imperial lockdown."

"It isn't strength of arms I seek from you. I seek the Jedi." Revan's words hung on the air. "A very long time ago, the Jedi Order was the mightiest order in the Galaxy. They were the sword of the Republic, the hand that wielded justice in the name of all things Light. If I am to defeat this powerful new foe and restore life to the Galaxy, I shall need the Jedi Order. And, two of the most powerful Jedi left alive are known to you. Rahm Kota, and Galen Marek."

Now, it was Juno's turn to laugh. "You're quite the charmer, Lord Revan. I almost believed your intentions to be pure. And, I believed you _weren't_ a fool. But to ask me to give you directions to wherever Galen and Kota are hiding out... Not even Vader had been so foolish. Let me ask you something, _my Lord_. Even if I knew where they were, even if I knew that they were still alive... Why would I tell _you_?"

"Look into your heart, Captain Eclipse. As much as you'd like to believe it, you know I am no Sith Lord. I have no desires to rule the Galaxy, or eradicate any threats to my power. I simply seek to destroy the invaders who threaten _our_ homes. But I cannot do it alone. I _need_ the help of Marek and Kota."

"I'm sorry. But the answer is no." Juno folded her arms, narrowing her eyes in a very stiff-necked gesture, indicating her insistent refusal. "So what now? Shall I consider my probation denied?"

Revan breathed out a low sigh, dragging his fingers through his hair. He leaned forward, thumbing the intercom on his desk. "Officer Krall, have the Rogue Shadow along with Captain Eclipse's effects brought around to the Senate Docks. Have her prepped for immediate departure."

"At once, Master Revan."

Juno couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Is this some kind of trick?" she asked imperiously, tilting her head. "You're just letting me leave?"

"This is no deception. You won't be followed, your 'escape' shall not be hindered in anyway, and no attempts will be made to track your progress. Not that I have the power to track the stealthiest ship in the Galaxy, anyway." He let out another sigh,shaking his head. "I am just disappointed that we couldn't have been more helpful to one another." The former Sith rose from his seat, his shoulders slumped, as though pained by the colossal weight bearing down upon them. He made his way to the blasted window, once more gazing out across the shattered city, his hair billowing out to his side as a TIE fighter roared past the breach. "You are free to leave whenever you so wish, Captain Eclipse. Just..." he turned, fixing her with an imploring gaze. "Please. If you reconsider your decision, let me know at once. Time is not a commodity we hold in abundance. Not any more."

Much later, when the Rogue Shadow sped through Hyperspace, a sudden and strange feeling descended upon Juno Eclipse. Once boarded, she'd performed system checks, made sure Revan lived up to his promise of not following her by having Proxy complete a detailed sweep of the ship for any tracking devices, and departed Coruscant at top speed. While she cycled the ship towards Lightspeed, the Protocol Droid had made triply sure that no tail was following them. It wasn't until now that she realised Revan wasn't the sadistic tyrant Vader and Palpatine had been. He had truly meant what he said.

_"I simply seek to destroy the invaders threatening _our _homes..."_

Leaning her elbows on the arms of her chair, she rested her forehead against the palms of her hands, kneading her fingers into her temples. "Something troubles you, Captain Eclipse." Proxy's quavering voice broke through her silent musings. "I had calculated you to be overjoyed at your release from Imperial custody. Do you fear we've been deceived?"

"No. I fear that we haven't." she sighed. "I... I feel I made a mistake. I can always tell when someone is lying to me, or trying to trick me. Even a Jedi would have a hard time of it. But..."

"But you feel Lord Revan spoke the truth."

"Yes. Yes I do." The blonde fell into a long, pained silence, the flashing blue and white lights of Hyperspace washing over the cockpit. She reflected on the meeting with the charismatic Revan, how he spoke of the Galaxy being, not his, but _ours_. She remembered the way Lord Vader had called it "my Galaxy", and couldn't once recall Revan saying anything of the sort.

_"If I am to defeat this powerful new foe and restore life to the Galaxy..."_

_ "...the hand that wielded justice in the name of all things Light."_

_ "I have no desires to rule the Galaxy..."_

_ "I cannot do this alone."_

Those did not sound like the recruitment drives of Imperial tyrants. It sounded like a man trying to save trillions of lives. A man trying to drive away an oppressive monster who sought to conquer and destroy.

Something Juno, Marek and Kota had been doing since the inception of the Rebellion.

"If I may offer some advice in the form of an archaic saying, Captain..." Proxy began. "... 'find the enemy of your enemy, and there you will find a friend'. It stands to reason that the force which attacked Coruscant would be no ally to the Rebel Alliance, and therefore would present itself as a foe in due time."

_"Time is not a commodity we hold in abundance. Not anymore."_

"Galen will know what to do." she muttered, curling her fringe back behind her ear and rising. "I'll speak to him and Kota once we arrive. But now, I need a shower. Keep her on course, Proxy."

"Affirmative, Captain."

Juno Eclipse wasn't the only one with a heavy heart.

On Revan's orders, Rex had made his way to Corellia to oversee the work of the shipwrights in their dockyards and monitor the flow of the Imperial Navy. In the brief but violent assault on Coruscant and the other worlds, many ships had been destroyed, and Revan knew that they'd not only need to replace the losses, but add to the original number if they wished to stand a chance against the powerful new threat. Rex was there to keep the shipyards running at optimal capacity, as well as guide the implementation of newer weapons systems and shielding arrays.

As such, Corellia was given a high defensive priority, ranking equal to that of the refugee worlds. A wide protective blockade was set up, offering a sizable buffer to outer space, and only those on direct orders from Revan, Rex, or someone of equal rank were allowed to pass through the ring of ships. This meant that Rex needed to work tirelessly; meeting with ship commanders, approving requests to pass the blockade, relentlessly working the employees of Corellia's docks, and find housing and working space for engineers and workers from the Kuat Drive Yards.

Suffice it to say that the Clone Commander wasn't at all used to such duties.

Regardless, Rex did as he was bidden by the new military leader of the Galaxy, as he knew that without Revan and his tactically genius mind, they were lost. On the day Vader was taken, Rex had braced _himself_ to take control of the Imperial Navy, but even with his years upon years of battle service and experience, he didn't hold a candle to the war-machine that was Revan's brain. Hence his immediate offer of alliance with the former Sith.

Despite having a man on their side who wiped out the Mandalorians and their extensive might four thousand years ago against all odds with a ramshackle and crumbling fleet, Rex couldn't really see much light at the end of the tunnel. Revan himself had said that nothing like this foe had ever been seen before. And Revan had seen much.

The Imperial techies were rising to every challenge thrown their way. Thus far, they'd managed to increase the firepower of the Imperial-II Destroyer's forward batteries, bolster the shielding systems of every vessel in the fleet, and developed a new type of starship, christened the Hawk-II. Smaller and sleeker than any starship seen before, they were designed at taking down larger foes; They were fast, silent, stealthy, and boasted an impressive weapons array, utilising Ion and Disruptor cannons to swiftly disable a much larger target.

Rex felt as though their preparations were going as well as they could. But, in saying that, he doubted it was anywhere near good enough. The fact remained that three of those damned machines had taken down the Senate Fleet without a hiccup, and they had no idea how many more of them were out there. The only thing to do was to build their defences and bide their time until the enemy presented itself once again.

To say that Revan had been disappointed with Juno Eclipse's refusal was a severe understatement. The charismatic military genius had felt sure he could have secured Juno's aid in finding Marek and Kota, but alas, he had failed.

That failure weighed heavily on his mind as he returned to his work. Studying the video feeds of the attack did little to ease his mind. No epiphany on just how to bring down the squid-like machines arose. Just a crushing feeling of despair as he witnessed the monsters tearing apart the Senate Fleet and guard. The only indication that these things weren't indestructible was the way the smaller of the machines fell back after a ferocious combined barrage from the Executor, the Orbital Defense Arrays and the AA Placements surrounding the Senate. Briefly, electricity had crackled around the machine's shell, as though it's shields had taken a savage hit.

It wouldn't be an easy task at all, but they could hurt them. And if they could hurt them, they could take them down. The best way Revan could see to do this was through strength in numbers. Continue to mass the Imperial Fleets, bolster the ranks, and improve their shielding and armaments.

Now, he believed, was the time to call his own Fleet into action. During his time in hiding, he had secured many alliances, even gaining the friendship of a Rebellion General who commanded one of the Alliance's last battalions. The memory of the day they met in the jungles of Dxun washed over him, and he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

_It was the day the Rebellion had failed. Luke Skywalker was dead, Admiral Ackbar was dead. Their fleets were being routed, ships picked off by the mass of Star Destroyers crowding into the narrow corridor of space in the skies of Endor. The Imperials had effectively cut off the Rebel retreat, turning the former battlefield into a shooting gallery. Only a handful of the Rebel ships had successfully eluded annihilation at the hands of the Empire. One of those had been the Millennium Falcon. Another had been a small, unimportant and badly damaged Frigate flying under the call sign "The Liberty".Unable to return to his own Flagship, General Jon Cryt'on had flown his X-Wing fighter straight into the cargo hold and ordered an immediate retreat._

_ Little did he know, they were being followed._

_ The jump had been a random, emergency jump, plotting the first course that was available. As fate would have it, the destination was Onderon. Revan had arrived on the moon of Dxun a few short hours earlier, wishing to locate the remnant of Clan Ordo. Before saying their farewells standing atop the Twin Spears of Rekkiad, on the eve of Revan's departure into the Unknown Regions, Canderous Ordo had made an oath to the former Dark Lord, that no matter the manner of Revan's return (whether conqueror or hero), he would forever have the allegiance of Clan Ordo. Revan knew that Canderous would have died millennia ago, but perhaps, his descendants lived on._

_ The collapsing ruins of Dxun yielded little information, aside from the fact that Canderous (styled as "Mandalore the Preserver") had lived and prospered on Dxun in the years following Revan's venture into the Unknown Regions and his subsequent imprisonment on Nathema. The former Sith Lord felt a considerable pang of mourning regret when he found the name of Meetra Surik amongst the Mandalorian records. His search, however, wasn't to go unnoticed for long._

_ On the planet's surface, in a wide and sparse clearing on the remains of the old camp, Revan encountered a young Mandalorian mercenary by the name of Corvin Thrall. The lean and armoured warrior told Revan he was on Dxun, seeking information on the old Mandalorian tribes; Clan Ordo in particular. According to his own research, Corvin's family tree stretched back to Mandalore the Preserver himself. But, before Revan could begin to recruit Thrall and his Clan, a powerful disturbance in the Force ripped through his mind, as the deaths of Emperor Palpatine, Luke Skywalker, and thousands upon thousands of Rebel lives were snuffed from existence._

_ It was in that moment when the skies above Dxun were lit up, as the Liberty and her crew departed from hyperspace with Imperial TIE Fighters and a lone Gunship on their tails. The Imperial forces bombarded the battered frigate, forcing it to plunge down through the trees and crash land on the moon's surface. Exchanging a glance, both Corvin and Revan charged through the jungle towards the downed vessel._

Even now, Revan could recall every minute detail in perfect clarity; The jungle's overpowering aromas, the call and shriek of the native Drexl, the groaning roar of the heavier Boma and Cannoks, his own cloak billowing out behind him, Corvin,hefting a giant Repeater which simply seemed too large for his lean frame, the lit cigarette dangling almost comically from the Mandalorian's lips, the boom of thermal detonators, the whine of laserfire.

He had burst through the trees into a small clearing beside the ruins of the old Frigate, finding a small knot of Rebel troops desperately clinging to life. They were surrounded on three sides, with the smoking ship to their rear, fighting with all they had. In a thunderous boom, Corvin released a battle-cry and opened up with the Heavy Repeater, and anything within range was decimated by the sheer power of the immense carbine. Revan charged towards the Imperial lines, his lightsaber singing as he deflected blaster bolts and cut through the Troopers like a hot knife through butter.

The small but vivacious Imperial squad had been routed once the Jedi and the Mandalorian joined the fray, their actions sparking a sudden determined courage in the previously beaten Rebels, and before long, the remaining Troopers fled through the burning trees. Once again, Corvin had hefted his Repeater with a grin, informing Revan that the Imperials weren't leaving Dxun's forests alive, and formed an alliance with the Jedi, stating that (as Canderous had done more than three thousand years ago) no matter the fight, Clan Ordo would come to Revan's aide. Operating under the guise of Zade Kento, Revan accepted the offer gladly. In this way, Revan also gained the allegiance of Jon Cryt'on and the remaining ships under his command, even though they were no doubt scattered or destroyed. Jon also made a vow to track down whatever remained of the Alliance's hierarchy (namely Leia Organa and Han Solo) and gain their support to Revan's cause.

Emerging from his reverie, Revan rose from his chair. Loath as he was to admit it, the Jedi was tired. It had been days since he last slept, and while he personally wished to seek Cryt'on out and call in the ships promised to him, he knew that the task was better left to others. After issuing his orders, Revan returned to his private chambers.

The cavernous, obsidian black room was dark, the durasteel shutters drawn over the long, rectangular windows. The only light came from the flickering terminal near the wall, and from the headlamp of a small, ancient astromech droid beside the steel table. The little droid issued a series of excited beeps as Revan entered the room, wheeling towards his master, and Revan smiled. "It's good to see you too, T3." The former Lord said quietly, sinking into one of the comfortable armchairs near the central table. "I'm afraid my promised game of Pazaak will have to wait. I need to rest." He said apologetically. "Can you play the recording for me?"

The Droid gave a reproachful beep, but obliged nonetheless, and a flickering hologram appeared from the small projector bulb built into T3's face. The display showed a beautiful young woman, her dark brown hair pulled back into an elegant knot at the back of her head, her face shining with laughing happiness as she helped a young child walk back and forth across the room. When Revan smiled again, it was a smile of both joy and sadness. "Bastila..." he muttered into the silence, and within a few moments, had passed into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 7: Friends in High Places

**Chapter Seven:** "Friends in High Places."

As the Normandy piloted nimbly through a thin asteroid field on the edge of the Sea of Storms, Commander Shepard stood alone in the SR2's War Room, going over the final preparations. Tali Zorah was waiting up ahead by the colossal Mass Relay, Garrus Vakarian was on board, and David Anderson was headed out to see them off. Shepard couldn't help but fear that even if they managed to find evidence of the Reaper's movements, the Galaxy at large wouldn't lift a finger. Not that the man could blame them, of course. Sending their fleets far, far away from home wasn't a very attractive move considering the fact that half the races in the Galaxy hated one another.

What Shepard needed was someone to remain here, and rally the support. There were many he knew that would immediately jump to the cause; Urdnot Wrex, Grunt and Zaeed Massani shared a love for war and insurmountable challenges. Legion and his Geth would also partake in the battle thanks to the enslavement of their mechanical race. David Anderson promised the full support of the Systems Alliance, and Garrus Vakarian had assured Shepard the Turians would fight beside him until the bitter end. There were others, like the Quarians, who would join them if they could be convinced of the cause. And no doubt Aria T'Loak's assistance would be guaranteed if she saw a substantial prize at the end of the tunnel.

But, who to ask? Anderson would take up the cause with gusto, but his influence stretched only as far as the Alliance. The Citadel Council were obviously out of the question, so too was Miranda Lawson, despite her excellent contacts and business sense; No one would listen to a former Cerberus Operative, even one who'd played a pivotal role in saving the Galaxy.

Then, it hit him. He felt foolish for not reaching the conclusion immediately. When it came to influential and knowledgeable people, there was only one person who sat at the top of the ladder.

Liara T'Soni, the Shadow Broker.

Possessing substantial wealth for bribery and rewards, and limitless information to use as blackmail or to grease the wheels of a potential ally, Liara was positioned perfectly to undertake this duty. And, Shepard knew she wouldn't refuse the request. She knew just how deadly the Reapers were, and wasn't at all blasé about the destruction of all life.

"EDI," Shepard spoke aloud to the ceiling, leaning over the communications console. "I want this room on lockdown for the next hour. No interruptions, no one in, security feeds deactivated."

If the unshackled AI had any doubts about her commander's motives, she didn't voice them. "Locking down." she acquiesced in cool, compliant tones. When Shepard felt the room was secure, he opened up a comm link with the Shadow Broker.

"Commander Shepard, it is good to hear from you again." Despite the heavy voice modification causing the Asari to sound like the original, monstrous Broker, John could tell Liara's voice purely by her inflections.

"And you." he said with a smile. "But I'm afraid this isn't a personal call. I take it you know why I'm contacting you."

"Knowledge is my business, Shepard." she replied coolly. "Although the exact details are somewhat obscure, I believe you're calling me in regards to your latest suicide mission, involving the unmapped Relay in the Phoenix Massing?"

"Precisely." Shepard wasn't disappointed in the least. If anyone outside of the Normandy crew knew about this mission, it would have to be Liara. This uncanny ability with knowing things people should never know is exactly why he wanted the Asari in his corner. "We're going after the Reapers." he advised unnecessarily. "And when we get back, we're going to need help."

"Ah. I see your predicament. The Council haven't changed their stance on the subject of the Reapers, nor have any of the Council races. Save the Turians of course, but I'm sure you knew that already, thanks to your latest addition to the team." Shepard cleared his throat, halting Liara's habit of rambling in poor situations. Checking herself, the Asari pressed on to business. "Forgive me." she muttered. "I am right in assuming that you wish for me to help you in securing assistance for your return journey, correct?"

"Correct." Shepard concurred. "There's no one else I would trust the job to. This mission could mean taking down the Reapers _without_ destroying our entire Galaxy. We're going to need everyone on board for this. Every race will need to step up and join this fight."

"I agree completely, Shepard. And I will do everything in my considerable power to gain the support you need. But... But not even the Shadow Broker has the influence to sway everybody. I'm afraid I cannot guarantee success in this venture."

Shepard shook his head. "I'm not asking you to coerce the entire Galaxy. But a few choice people could be the rolling pebbles that start an avalanche. You're forgetting that I have many friends in high places. Urdnot Wrex, Zaeed Massani, Mordin Solus, Miranda Lawson, Thane Krios, Samara... Hell, even Aria T'Loak. If you can talk to these people, you could start a domino effect that builds up an army to halt the Reaper march."

John paused, waiting for Liara to process all the information he'd just given her. No doubt she realised that with these names on his list, he could secure the help of Clan Urdnot, the STG, the Terminus Systems, the Justicars, the Cerberus seperatists, and many, many others. "You make an excellent point, Shepard. I believe that I could gain the allegiance of all the people you have named, and more. Although I must admit that the Queen of Omega will be a tough nut to crack, even for myself."

"Aria will help us, as long as it helps her." John replied grimly. Aria T'Loak was as far from a charitable saint as anyone could get, but it was true that she always paid her debts. "All I can ask is your best effort."

"And that is precisely what you will get." Liara stated fervently. "I shall begin work immediately. Such a task cannot be put aside."

"I knew I could count on you."

"And, Shepard?"

John raised his head.

"Be careful out there."

"As careful as I can be."

Ending the communication link, John sank into the chair beside the terminal, dragging his fingers across the top of his head. Finally, the man felt a little bit of relief. Liara was on the case, and he was sure that now, he wouldn't be coming home to the same old shit. There would be people waiting, ready to take up the cause, eager to join the fight against the Reapers, rather than a group of stuffy politicians with their thumbs up their asses. Well, they'd still be there, but Shepard would just love to see them try and stop him this time.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt your private call, Shepard." came Joker's voice over the intercom. "But we're coming up to The Migrant Fleet now. The Quarians are rolling out the red carpet as we speak."

"Copy that Joker. EDI, prepare the docking bay."

"Affirmative, Commander Shepard."

Rising, Shepard straightened his coat, and departed to greet Tali Zorah Vas Normandy.

Meanwhile, a rickety old Alliance Freighter zoomed through the heavens. It's cargo was a lone man; Admiral David Anderson. Sitting on the heavily shaking bench seat, a rucksack next to his feet, dressed in his field camos, the old man felt a sense of nostalgic joy. This was where he belonged, zooming across the galaxy in an old bucket of bolts that stank of blood and sweat; Not pushing papers behind a mahogany desk in an air-conditioned office with a pretty receptionist bringing him his lunch.

He felt like he was home.

The decision to go with Shepard had been an easy one to make. He was nigh useless back on Earth, where hardly anyone would listen to him. There were whispers that the old coot had gone soft in the head, which was why he droned on about the Reapers and stepped down as Earth's Councillor. The fact of the matter was that Anderson couldn't deal with the political bullshit that a Councilman's job entailed. He thought returning to the military would be better, but it wasn't the same. What with Udina breathing down his neck at every possible moment and the Alliance brass questioning every decision he made, Anderson had had quite enough.

Yes, deciding to leave had been easy. Actually making his escape hadn't been.

He knew that if he openly departed, he would be stopped. Udina was due to make the rounds at Alliance Command that day, and Anderson was high on the Councillor's hit list. He'd heard that upon hearing of Shepard's release from custody, Donnel Udina had been ropeable. Luckily for Anderson, the man's schedule stopped him from immediately descending upon Anderson in a hail of fire and brimstone, but he knew that Udina wasn't one to let something like this slip under the radar. He'd expected the blustering Councillor to keelhaul him that day, but after Tali's call, the Admiral found his opportunity to slip away.

Anderson left his secretary with strict instructions to make his excuses until he was far, far away. Helen had risen to the challenge beautifully, not only steering Anderson's visitors for the day astray, but also arranging this modest transport for him. None would expect him to be travelling through space in this rust bucket, not while he had a brand new warship at his disposal, hovering in the Alliance Docks just outside the atmosphere.

"Coming up to the Tassrah Relay, Admiral." the pilot called over his shoulder. "We should be rendezvousing with the Normandy within the hour."

With a grunt, Anderson rose from the bench, massaging his lower back, carefully stepping his way towards the open cockpit. "Excellent work." he briefly clasped the pilot's shoulder, watching as the flashing blue lights of lightspeed washed over the cabin's forward viewing windows, the ship's FTL drives thrumming loudly beneath his feet. "With any luck you'll be halfway home before anyone realises we're gone."

Anderson had spoken too soon. Mere moments after the freighter disembarked from FTL travel, blue lights flashed on the cockpit's display panels, indicating an incoming call. "Son of a bitch..." Anderson muttered in exasperation. He had no doubts in his mind just who was making the call, and also knew that if he ignored the connection, Donnel Udina would find a way to lock the pilot up for his troubles. With a sigh, he prepared himself for the lecture, walking slowly towards the rear of the craft and the comms room.

"Godspeed, Admiral." the pilot said with a smirking quirk of the lip.

The Admiral pulled the door of the narrow comms chamber closed behind him, tucking his short-peaked cap onto his head and fitted the comm device to his ear. "Anderson." he greeted, after a short pause.

"What is this meaning of this?!" Udina's voice exploded into life, just as his flickering hologram appeared before Anderson. The Councilman was livid.

"The meaning of what, Councillor?" Anderson replied calmly, raising an eyebrow. "A situation arose that I needed to take care of personally. There was no time to-"

"Save me your excuses!" roared the Councillor. "First, you release a dangerous war criminal from custody, and then you have the gall to disappear without a word! I demand to know _exactly_ what is going on!"

"I'm sorry. But that is classified information. And I'm afraid that while you are on the Citadel Council, and _not_ part of the Systems Alliance, I cannot divulge such classified materials to you. With all due respect, of course."

Udina squared his shoulders, seeming to swell with fury, his hands curling into fists. "This is preposterous! I am humanity's representative on the Council!"

"Unfortunately, you are _not_ a representative for the Alliance." Anderson kept his voice even, respectful. "All you need to know is that I am on a mission of the utmost importance, and that all life in the Galaxy depends on it's outcome."

Comprehension dawned on the Councillor's face, and he gave a derisive snort. "The Reapers?! Admiral Anderson, I never took you to be such a fool. The Reapers are no longer a threat to us. The biggest threat to the Galaxy is the lunatic who destroyed the Alpha Relay. The lunatic you freed _without_ authorisation less than a fortnight ago!"

"I acted within my jurisdiction and authority. As I am now. Good day to you, Councillor Udina."

"Anderson, I'm warning-"

The Admiral ended the call mid sentence.

"Private, could you be so kind as to disable inwards communications?" Anderson asked drily.

The pilot smirked. "Aye aye, Admiral."

Udina was left seething from the disconnection. Once upon a time, David Anderson would have never been so bold and subordinate. But now... Now Udina was forced to make an empty report.

And an empty report wouldn't be looked upon favourably by his new "partner".

Sneering heavily, the Councillor, as Shepard had done a Galaxy away mere moments ago, disabled the room's security feeds, opened up a heavily encrypted channel and locked down the communications hub.

Within moments, a holographic figure stood on the display platform, his back to Udina, thin tendrils of smoke twisting from the end of the lit cigarette between his two forefingers. "I trust you have some good news for me, Udina?" The Illusive Man's indicated that the only type of news he wished to hear was the good kind.

"Unfortunately, no..." Udina muttered, the superior edge in his voice giving way to a subservient drone. "Admiral Anderson has departed the Systems Alliance, no doubt to meet up with Shepard."

"I already know this, Councillor." The Illusive Man replied rudely, turning to face Udina. His electric blue eyes gleamed as they fell on the Human Councillor, and he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling. "Admiral Anderson isn't important to me. Shepard, and his quest to stop the Reapers, is."

"And I'm doing all that I can to gather information on his progress."

"It isn't enough. I need to know where he is, and what he's doing." The Illusive Man spat reproachfully. "A missing Admiral is hardly valuable information. Don't make me rethink our agreement, Udina. Don't make my faith in your resourcefulness be worthless."

"I already have my men scouring the Galaxy for leads on where Shepard and Anderson might be." Udina replied, wringing his hands nervously. "My latest report indicates that the Normandy made a visit to Menae. My informant on Palaven said that Garrus Vakarian joined his crew shortly before they departed."

The Illusive Man dragged thoughtfully at his cigarette. "Seems to me as though he's recruiting his old squad..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Which means..." he paced lightly, back and forth across the screen, stroking his chin in thought. "Udina, do you have contacts within the Migrant Fleet?"

"I... Well, yes of course. But what could Shepard-"

"Have them report to you immediately. If Shepard is enlisting his former allies, Tali Zorah Vas Normandy will be high on his list of friends. She's helped him many times in the past, and if he's already recruited Garrus Vakarian, Tali won't be far behind. They've both been with him since Eden Prime."

With an agreeable nod, Udina acquiesced. "I see your point. I shall confer with my informants in the Quarian Fleet." he finished with a respectful bow.

"Very good." The Illusive Man crushed his cigarette out into an unseen ash tray, and fixed Udina once more with his icy, penetrating blue stare. "And Councillor?" he began in a voice even colder than his eyes. "Do _not_ disappoint me again."


	9. Chapter 8: Rebuilding the Order

**Chapter Eight:** "Rebuilding the Order."

It had only taken one simple question; "Can we trust him, Juno?"

Juno Eclipse's answer of "Yes" was all that Galen Marek needed to hear. The former secret apprentice of Darth Vader decided instantly that they would lend whatever aid they could to this Master Revan, in his fight with the mysterious yet awesome force that assaulted the Galaxy. But, before he sealed the deal, he wished to meet with the charismatic Jedi Master, and determine for himself is his intentions were for good, or ill. They had sent the message with Proxy, who had proceeded directly to Coruscant, to deliver the Starkiller's summons.

The meeting was to take place, oddly enough, on the Outer Rim world of Taris; A place Revan knew very well indeed. It had been the very place where the amnesiac Dark Lord had begun his rise from Darkness and into the Light, his first stepping stone on his path to once again becoming a Galactic Hero.

On his journey through Hyperspace, Revan reflected upon his visit there, more than three thousand years ago. It was when the name "Zade Kento" had initially been planted into his mind by the Jedi High Council. A name which he still used to this very day. Part of a routine patrol fleet of the Outer Rim, the ship he served on, "The Endar Spire", had been assaulted by Revan's former Sith Apprentice, Darth Malak, in his quest to seize the young Knight, Bastila Shan. He had crash landed with war hero Carth Onasi, and despite facing insurmountable odds (in the form of Swoop Gangs, Rahkghouls, Mercenaries, Bounty Hunters and the Sith), had safely escaped the planet on the stolen Ebon Hawk (a parting "gift" from Exchange boss Davik Kang) along with Shan, Onasi and a buccaneer crew made up of street urchins and vagabonds.

From orbit, Revan could see that the planet had changed much. Where there was simply steel and polluted seas on his previous visit, mother nature had reclaimed much of the planet, and thick pockets of green and brown coated the surface like moss growing over a weathered old stone. According to the history books, a few minor attempts to resettle the planet had been undertaken in the past, but Taris, it seemed, would never again be the bustling ecumenopolis of yesteryear.

Down below, on the crumbling remains of the Upper City, Galen Marek stood in waiting. Starkiller's clone was tense, nervous, his eyes darting across the landscape and skies. With his powerful affinity to the Force, Galen could feel the billions of lives lost here calling out in pain and misery across the ages; he hated Taris. But, the dead planet was the perfect hiding place. No one would think to look for him and Kota here.

"Are you sure you wish to face this alone?" Kota's voice crackled into life through Marek's headset, and the Jedi pressed two fingers to his ear.

"Of course not." he muttered, once more checking the forget-me-not- blue skies. "But it's the only way. I need to speak with this Revan alone." Kota had previously explained his dislike of the idea more than once. He knew the tales of Revan and the details of his rise and fall and rise. As such, he didn't put the same trust in this former Dark Lord that Juno Eclipse did.

"Just be careful, Galen." the blind Jedi advised. "You've got a ship inbound. Coming in hot from the West."

Slowly, Marek's hands balled into fists, his knuckles audibly cracking as he tensed further, staring into the distance. A speck appeared on the horizon, the light from the Tarisian sun gleaming off it's metallic chrome exterior. Within moments, the droning roar of twin thrusters boomed across the wastes, and the Ebon Hawk swam into view amidst the heat haze.

It became apparent to Marek that the Dynamic-class Freighter wasn't going to stop in time, when the old vessel's nose lifted into the air a few hundred feet away from him, going into a steady climb. The Jedi took a step backwards, preparing to wave down the ship, but halted when a single robed figure leaped from the ramp, somersaulting in the air and raising it's arms. He watched as twin lightsabers were drawn from the figures belt and ignited in a flare of crimson and violet, and in a split second decision, stretched out his own arms, his dual lightsabers springing to his hands and activating in an X pattern, catching Revan's heavy downwards sweep.

The strike carried so much force behind it that Marek was knocked clean off his feet, crashing and tumbling backwards through the wreck of an old landspeeder, his sabers spinning away amidst the rubble. Revan straightened, the light falling on his masked face, and he directed a hand towards an old rusted cargo ship, lifting it into the air and flinging it towards the downed Starkiller.

Marek was quick to react, gritting his teeth as he rose and once again thrusting his arms forward. His feet slid back in the debris as he caught the husk of the vessel with the Force, and flung it back towards Revan with a snarl. The former Sith leaped forward, using the Force to increase his speed, and swung his sabers in a downwards vertical slash, slicing directly through the ship, the two halves parting like the Red Sea and crashing to Earth with a deafening boom.

Revan pressed his attack again, dashing lithely across the rubble-strewn ground, and Marek summoned his blue lightsabers to himself again, checking and parrying artfully executed combinations from Revan. Starkiller raised his blue blades horizontally to catch another killing slash from the former Sith, feeling the bones in his wrist and forearm jarring painfully from the force of impact. "What are you _doing_?!" Galen roared, struggling to hold his position. "You came here to find _help_, not a _war_!" Revan pressed forward in response, looming closer and closer to Marek, and lunged forward, booting the Jedi squarely in the chest and knocking him clean from his feet. Marek was back up again in an instant, ducking beneath one savage swipe from Revan, and pressed the attack.

Starkiller fought with blinding speed, the four lightsabers humming and clashing, sparks issuing from every glanced attack. Marek swept low, and Revan leaped, backflipping and landing atop a ruined water tank. "Enough!" he shouted, holding out a halting hand. A stunned look crossed Marek's face, but regardless, he slowly lowered his humming blades, eyeing Revan with the utmost curiosity. The former Sith deactivated his lightsabers and returned them to the clips on his belt, before reaching up and casting back his hood, pulling the ancient Mandalorian mask from his face.

"Forgive me, Marek." he said quietly, offering the stunned Starkiller a perfunctory bow. "I needed to be sure it was you, and that I wasn't walking into a trap."

"You could have killed me." Marek growled in disbelief. "Or I you. Surely there were better ways to determine my identity?"

"I'm afraid there were none." Revan replied. "Even the greatest Jedi can be deceived with words. But no man, alive or dead, can hide their identity through combat. Your style is very unique, Starkiller. It was the only way of truly determining who you were."

Marek continued to stare in disbelief. Even though he could see the man's point (considering that Marek himself was a clone of the original Starkiller), the surprise greeting and it's method had rocked him considerably. Slowly, he returned his lightsabers to his belt, nodding his understanding. "You had a reason for coming here." he said swiftly. "What did you want, Revan?"

Revan leaped down from the rusting tank, straightening his robes. "I'll not bore you with the details of the attack on Coruscant, as I'm sure you're already aware of them. But in light of the destruction of the Senate, and the powers of the monsters who assaulted us, I have assumed control of the Empire, and am readying the defence of the Galaxy. There is one crucial piece missing, however."

"The Jedi Order." Marek offered, knowing the missing element. He swept his gaze over the former Dark Lord, as if measuring his intent with his eyes. Kota had briefly explained the rise and fall and rise of Darth Revan, the rebellious Revanchist Movement, and the Galactic Hero's bizarre disappearance. Despite knowing Revan's history, he could detect no evil from the man. "You want my help in rebuilding the Order." It wasn't a question.

Revan concurred by inclining his head gravely. "Any Jedi remaining out there would hardly embrace me, while I am commonly known to be at the top of the Imperial hierarchy. But the names of Galen Marek and Rahm Kota inspire courage and freedom. They would flock to you, seeing a chance for safety and shelter, and with time, the Jedi Order would flourish again."

"It would take centuries for the Order to become as strong as it was forty years ago. But if these foes are as powerful as you believe, even a handful of Jedi Knights could mean the differences between victory and defeat." Starkiller had read the reports, heard the scared mutters of the people of the Galaxy. "I must ask... What happens if we succeed? Will you keep to your word, and demolish the Empire, setting the Republic back in its rightful place?" he asked, arching a brow, once more scanning the impromptu Emperor for any hint of a lie or deceit.

"I went to war with the Mandalorians and my own Sith Empire thousands of years ago for the Republic. I left my wife and unborn child when another threat to the Republic rose in the Unknown Regions. Just as I did then, I now fight for the Republic, and its freedoms. You have my solemn word that once the war is won, the Galaxy will have its peace. A Supreme Chancellor will sit in the centre chair of the Senate, not an Emperor." He spoke solemnly.

That was enough for Galen. "Very well. I assume that you, Kota and myself will form the beginnings of the High Council?"

"You assume correct." Revan nodded. "I recommend you make use of the ruined Enclave on Dantooine. In the early days of the Empire, I'm told, the Rebel Alliance re-purposed the facility as a hidden base. I believe you will find it quite adequate, once repairs have been made."

Galen racked his mind, going over just how Jedi had approached him and Kota since the original Starkiller defied the Emperor. It was far from an sensational number, to be true, but Galen felt that within a few short weeks, he could have close to thirty trained Jedi Knights ready for combat, with perhaps another twenty younglings and apprentices. It would be a difficult task, but he had a knack for overcoming the odds. "I'll begin immediately." he replied with a stout nod. "I'll send word with Proxy once everything is under way."

"I thank you for your time, Master Marek." Revan imparted with a bow.

Dragging his fingers through his closely cropped hair, Galen uttered an abashed chuckle. "Master Marek. _That's_ going to take some getting used to..."

…...

Across the Galaxy, in the Hoth system, a Mon Calamari Cruiser hangs in the heavens. This vessel flew under the call sign "Freedom", and was the flagship of Alliance General Jon Cry'ton, Revan's ally from the skirmish on Dxun. The man himself sat in the Commander's chair, going over fleet movements and various reports on the Rebel Alliance's interactions with the Empire. Over the last month or two, much to Jon's confusion and joy, the Imperial troops had been pulling out of confrontations all across the Galaxy.

He'd heard the mutterings and whispers, that the Empire had been stricken ever since the assault on Coruscant, but the Corellian soldier knew better. The Empire had been steadily increasing their numbers, bolstering their fleets, to the stage where the Rebels could no longer engage them in open combat any more, restricted to utilising hit and run tactics on their supply lines and liberating low security worlds from Vader's iron grip.

The most recent of these had been a spec-ops assault on Kashyyk just four months ago, laying waste to the Empire's under-the-table Wookiee Slave Trade income. Jon and forty of his best had descended into the forests and joined forces with an elusive sect of the Wookiees who had thus far eluded capture, and using their own technology coupled with the Wookiee's knowledge of the forest, infiltrated the Imperial Compound, destroyed the garrison, freed the caged Wookiees and turned the facility's impressive AA placements over to the Chieftains, effectively blocking any chance of Imperial reclamation. Any ships coming within twenty vertical miles would be incinerated by the satellite and ground defences, and any long range assault would be thwarted by planetary shielding. Losing Kashyyk forever was a serious blow to the Empire, as Vader knew perfectly well that to drop a small team into the Wroshyr Trees where the Wookiees had been living and hunting for time out of mind would be like feeding them into the Sarlaac Pit on Tatooine.

Jon rose from his chair, his hand habitually resting on the butt of the pistol at his waist, dressed in his usual black flight jacket, and moved out across the bridge. He hadn't heard so much as a peep from Zade Kento since being saved by the man following the massacre of Endor, and some (namely Han Solo and Crix Madine) suggested that the man had popped his head out of the ground where it wasn't wanted and been taken down by the Empire. Even now, Jon knew otherwise. Kento had been too strong, too intelligent to get himself killed stupidly. He was one of the best. Better, Jon was willing to bet, than the late Luke Skywalker.

"Anything, Shran?" Jon called, approaching a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and matching walrus moustache, who was reading a datapad in his gnarled hands.

"Not so much as bleep on the radar." Captain Shran, a thirty-five year veteran replied with a shake of the head. "Imps are still pulling out of engagements, but there hasn't been a shot fired since the cease-fire."

Jon closed his blue-green eyes, nodding. He'd assumed as much. "Any word from Solo or Madine?"

"Madine sent word in that they've uncovered an abandoned Imperial Outpost in the Manaan System and they've bolstered their armouries, but little else." Shran nodded, taking a sip from his mug of coffee. "Captain Solo hasn't reported in since that encounter with the Zabraak on Kalprice. He and Leia are probably laying low."

"We're all laying low, Captain." Jon muttered in mild annoyance. "We've been hiding too long."

At that moment, a warning bell went off in the communications section of the bridge, and a female officer glanced over her shoulder towards the Corellian. "General, we've got an Imperial Squadron inbound." she announced intrepidly.

"Impossible." Shran gawked. "They have no way of knowing we're here. No one outside of the Alliance knows we're here!"

Jon remained silent for a moment. He had a very shrewd idea of who sent these men. "What are their numbers?" he asked, folding his arms and gripping his chin.

"Ten, sir." the officer replied.

Shran breathed a sigh of gentle relief. "Could be they're lost." he said quietly to Jon.

"I don't think that's the case. But we'll see." he replied quietly, before turning his attention to the bridge at large. "I want a welcoming party for our Imperial friends. Red Team, one through eight, neutral formations. Try and open a comm link, and keep their fingers off the triggers unless provoked. Find out why they're here, and bring them aboard."

Down in the hangar, Jon's orders were relayed, and the flashing orange lights blared out across the open bay. Blast shields were lifted, and Red Team clambered into their X-Wing Fighters, fired up the engines, and moved towards the empty vacuum of space. "This is Red Leader." a lieutenant announced. "Flying neutral formation, preparing to engage communications. Keep a light on for us, Control."

Jon's beliefs on the identity of the man who gave the orders to this small squadron would ring true. On Zade Kento's instructions, ten men from the 518th Battalion departed Coruscant, headed for the Hoth System. Their leader, a veteran of the Clone Wars, was Clone Captain Palimar Andolla. "Keep 'em steady, lads." he called to his men across the communications channel. "We'll be within communication range in about five minutes. Forward deflectors up, no engaging the Rebels." A chorus of "Aye aye!" rang out in reply.

"We've got company, Captain. Eight strong, coming in hot."

"Remain in formation, keep the comm channels open, and let me do the talking." Andolla advised. "Stay calm, and we might just make it home for dinner."

The Rebel fighters piloted nimbly through a sparse meteor field towards the incoming Imperials, all nervously gazing ahead. "X-Foils open, shields up." the leader ordered as they exited the debris, the starfighters taking on their attack positions. "R7, patch me through to those TIE Fighters." the little astromech droid gave a whoop of acknowledgement. "This is Lieutenant Kane of the Alliance." Red Leader barked over the comm. "We have you in range of our proton torpedoes. Identify yourself and your mission immediately, or we will have no choice but to open fire."

Andolla took a breath behind the controls of his Interceptor. "Captain Palimar Andolla of the 518th Battalion." he responded. "I'm here on a diplomatic mission, bringing a message to one General Cry'ton."

"Keep your formation, Captain." Kane directed. "I'm escorting you to the Freedom. Once on board, you and your men will submit to a search and be relieved of your weapons. Your men will be held in the hangar under guard, and you will be brought to the bridge in binds. Do you agree to my terms?"

"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" Andolla grumbled in annoyance.

"No Captain, you don't." the eight X-Wings passed the TIE Squadron, their thrusters glaring as they performed banking manoeuvres, falling upon the rear of the Imperials. Andolla felt a sudden surge of discomfort, with eight enemy fighters training their cannons on his back. The Imperials were shepherded like cattle towards the Freedom and into the hangar bay. As instructed, they disembarked their fighters with hands behind their heads, were relieved of their weapons, and Andolla was placed in cuffs before being escorted to the bridge.

The Clone felt the distrustful gaze of the Rebels all around him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He'd expected to broadcast his message from the safety of his Interceptor's cockpit, and making his escape immediately after. Not being driven to the Bridge in chains with a bunch of trigger-happy rebels eyeing him hatefully.

"Remove his helmet." Captain Shran ordered once Andolla reached the bridge, Cry'ton gazing curiously at the Clone from his chair. The white helmet was removed, revealing his olive-skinned and battle-worn face, a long thin scar running from the bridge of his nose to his ear; a parting gift from a long dead Echani mercenary.

"I'm told you have a message, Captain Andolla." Cry'ton called. "Speak it, and speak it quickly."

Andolla nodded. "Of course." he tapped a button at his wrist, and a panel on the guard flipped open, causing the Rebel troops to draw their blasters in the blinking of an eye. Andolla swiftly raised his hands in submission. "Easy, gents." he said slowly, feeling cold sweat trickle down his brow. "Just a holo message." With slow deliberation, he tapped a few buttons, and a life-size hologram of Revan flickered into life from the helmet's inbuilt projector.

"Greetings, General Cry'ton. I hope this message finds you alive and well." the robed figure accosted with a bow. "As I'm sure you are aware, Coruscant was sacked in recent weeks by an unknown enemy of immense power. In the brief but violent attack on the Senate, Emperor Darth Vader was taken captive by these insurgents, and I have been given impromptu control of the Imperial Navy, spearheading the defence of the Galaxy. As such, I ask that you recall our discussion on Dxun, and take note of the steady disappearance of Imperial Fleets from entanglements with the Alliance. Time is of the essence, so I'll make this as short as possible; I implore you to marshal your fleets at Corellia, and proceed with utmost haste to Coruscant. I will provide you with any and all information you require upon your arrival." The Jedi performed another bow. "Look for me in the Emperor's Suite, General, and may the Force be with us all."

Jon's brows knitted together as the hologram faded into nothing, feeling his entire crew's eyes on him. That explained why they hadn't been in a single fight in weeks and had been discovering deserted outposts ever since. He also recalled his promise to Kento as the ancient Dynamic-class freighter zoomed away from the jungle moon, to aid him when the time had come.

"General?" Shran muttered, glancing curiously towards his leader.

The silence was so thick, Jon could have cut it with a knife. He raked his gaze across Shran to Andolla, and after a few moments, gave a sharp nod. "Send word to Admiral Madine and Captain Solo. And plot a course for Coruscant."


End file.
